


The Secrets of a Garden

by casual_distance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Destiel Reverse Bang, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Magical Fantasy, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the request of the Witches, Dean's father is to remarry a woman from a neighboring land.  Neither Sam nor Dean are excited for it, but Anna and her children are just as leery, even if they are more accepting of the situation.  When Dean finds himself drawn to the woman's youngest son, Dean thinks the situation can't get any worse.  Then, Anna gets sick... and nothing seems to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Bang I’ve ever signed up for and I ended up lucky enough to get my first pick of art, this amazing piece by [Aceriee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceriee/pseuds/Aceriee):
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I loved the symbolism of the flowers in the piece, and decided to run with that as the theme of the story. I ended up writing 27k and could have probably kept going. :)
> 
> In addition to the prompt piece, Aceriee also created some beautiful portraits of the main characters and a gorgeous story header. Every piece is amazing and I’m lucky we had the chance to work together.
> 
> I’d also like to thank [FagurFiskur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur) for her assistance with editing! She did a wonderful job and under a major time crunch too!

  
_Header art by Aceriee_

 

* * *

 

The night Dean was born, Mary dreamed this:

_She’s lying in bed when the first wave of pain hits her. She sits up, arm curled around her stomach, gasping for breath. She pulls back the blankets to find the sheets soaked with blood. A second contraction hits her and she doubles over, moaning low as she closes her eyes and grits her teeth against it. When she opens her eyes another woman kneels in front of her, her stomach also swollen with child. Her red hair falls in soft waves around the pale skin of her face. She smiles and holds her hands out to Mary. Mary slides her hands into the woman’s and lets her pull her to her feet. Blood drips from the hem of Mary’s shift and pools around her feet. It spreads across the ground and sinks into the dirt around the woman’s feet. Green sprouts up, leaves unfurling. Yellow blossoms grow and then bloom. Another contraction doubles Mary over. The woman catches her and holds her, cheek to cheek, her stomach pressing into Mary's. Mary feels the baby kick and hers kicks back._

_“It’s okay,” the woman whispers. “There’s only joy here to be found.”_

Mary woke with a start, sitting up in bed, the smell of celandine still in her nose. Her abdomen tightened with a contraction. She gasped against the pain, palming over the curve of her stomach. She pulled the blankets back to find her night shift and bed sheets wet with water. Mary turned and shook her husband awake.

"John. John, it's time."

John rolled up onto his elbow, blinking sleep from his eyes. "Time?" he asked, voice rough.

"Time," she repeated.

 

* * *

 

"Chrysanthemums?" John asked, cupping a blossom between his fingers.

Mary nodded from where she lay in bed, Dean resting against her chest as he suckled. She watched him, arm curled around his body, his small fist in her hand. 

" _I love_ ," she answered. "I want him to have love. To be love. To give love."

"He was born in the hour of the skull," John said. He turned from the table to watch his wife and son.

Mary stared at him, defiant. "He was born of love and he will always have love. He is love."

John sighed. "You've seen the weapon the Witches gifted to him, Mary." He sat beside her on the bed and curled a hand around his son's tiny head. Fine wisps of blond hair floated with static. He smoothed them down. "It's a weapon of war."

"All weapons are. You men think that weapons can mean peace, but they never will. They never do. All weapons are war, but his having one does not mean that he cannot have love as well. If we gave as much importance to the flowers as we do to the weapons perhaps the world would be different."

John leaned forward to kiss Mary's forehead. "You’re right," he murmured against her warm skin. "But a weapon of bone already bloodied..."

Mary turned her face away. She would hear no more. John sighed and sat back.

"Rest," he said. "I will have his shield made."

He rose from their bed and left the room.

 

* * *

 

Dean curled into his mother's side, resting his head on her arm. He stared down at his little brother who blinked up at him with blue eyes.

"Mine are green," Dean said.

"Hmm?" Mary peered down at Dean. "What are green?"

Dean looked up at her and she smiled. "Are you asking why Sam's eyes are blue?"

Dean nodded against her arm, chin digging in.

"They'll change as he gets older. Many babies have blue eyes. You did."

Dean frowned and looked at Sam again. He reached out, patting Sam's stomach. Sam kicked at him, gurgling, spit bubbling up.

"Would you like to help me pick his flower, Dean?" Mary asked.

Dean nodded and pushed himself upright. "Crys'moms," he answered.

"Chrysanthemums?" Mary asked. "He can't have the same flower as you."

Dean shook his head. "Not red ones."

"Yellow means slighted love, Dean, or love that has been wronged. We don't want that for Sam."

Dean considered, his lower lip jutting out in thought. Mary smiled and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him closer to her. He came easily, always pleased to receive affection.

"White?" he asked.

"White means loyalty," she answered.

Dean smiled. "Sam's loyal."

"I'm sure he will be."

"He _is_ ," Dean insisted, reaching out again to touch Sam's stomach. Sam kicked again, his eyes riveted on Dean.

"Okay," Mary agreed. "Red chrysanthemums for my Dean and white chrysanthemums for Sammy."

Dean nodded once, firm, his face serious, a hard edge to his eyes that Mary flinched at.

When the Witches arrived, days after Sam was born, they came bearing a silver knife carved with symbols Mary had only read about. She held the wooden handle and traced a finger over the ridges of the spell. John stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't believe it," she said.

"Mary-"

"No. My boys will not make war. They will not fight a war." She dropped the knife into its chest and closed the lid. She pressed her forehead against the grain of it.

John knelt beside her. "We will do what we can, Mary, but this is fate. The Witches are fate."

"And the flowers?" she challenged, sitting up to glare at him.

John stared at her. He looked away. "Only our hopes."

"I don't believe it. I won't."

Mary left him there, standing before the chests that contained their sons' weapons. John's was mounted on the wall: a long-barreled gun with etchings in the metal and on the wooden grip. Only Mary's was different, a string of charms used by the Witches: spells of future-seeing, spells of healing, spells of growth, spells of building-

But also spells of pain, spells of hurting... spells of death.

 

* * *

 

  
_Portrait of John Winchester-Campbell by Aceriee_


	2. Broken Pieces

"I don't understand," Dean said as he frowned at his father.

"The Witches have requested it."

"The Witches? And you agreed?" Dean made a face, skeptical. John sighed and leaned forward to rest an elbow on the table.

"Yes, Dean, the Witches. They said that we need this alliance and the only way to do it is through marriage."

"There hasn't been an arranged marriage in decades. And who do we even need an alliance _against_?" Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

John's face darkened in anger. "Dean, I expect your support in this. I"m not asking you to marry, and I'm not- I hardly think that you could begrudge me the chance to find some happiness. To keep it. For myself and for our people. Your mother-"

"Mom wouldn't support this," Sam spoke up finally. He looked up from the table to stare at his father. "Mom hated the Witches claiming they knew the future or could affect it."

John's jaw clenched. He glared at Sam and then at Dean.

"I'm doing this," he said as he stood. "I expect both of you to be here when she and her children arrive. I expect both of you to be respectful of her and to treat her as her position calls for. I expect you to treat her children the same." John turned and left the room.

Sam scoffed. "I can't believe he still-"

"Sammy." Dean rubbed at his eyes. "It doesn't matter. He's going to do this regardless."

"You aren't even going to fight it?"

"Fight what, Sam? Dad choosing to get married again?"

"He's only doing it because-"

"It doesn't matter why," Dean interrupted. He pushed away from the table and stood. Sam followed.

"I don't know why he'd agree to this when he wouldn't even marry Kate."

Dean glanced at Sam as they walked down the hall. "Kate didn't want to get married, especially not because of Adam."

Sam scoffed. "Dad didn't even try. And throwing all that out about- about finding _happiness_? He doesn't even know this woman."

Dean sighed and ran a hand across his face. He paused at the top of the stairs. "Sam-"

"I just... you know nothing good can come of this."

"We don't know that, Sam. Isn't that your point- that we can't know the future?"

Sam groaned and threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine. Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Exactly what Dad asked, Sammy." Dean squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Show up and play nice."

He let go and started down the stairs. His blood itched in his veins, unease coiling in his gut. It always did where the Witches were concerned. He remembered his mother sitting in the grass of their garden, her hands covering his to help him wield the knife they had Gifted him. He remembered listening to his father explain about war, how the weapon was Dean's to fight with. He remembered his mother's anger, the way she'd yelled at his father then not spoken to him for days. She'd sat with Dean in the garden and covered his hands with her own and told him it was just a knife.

"It holds no deeper meaning than what you give to it, Dean," she said. "Do you understand?"

He hadn't, but he'd nodded anyway, eyes wide and intent.

Dean shook his head to free the memory. His hand wandered down to touch the hilt of the knife where it rested against his hip. He'd never been afraid of it, never feared it, but most who looked on it cringed from it. The few who'd known it was his Gifting had shied away from it and him afterward. Dean slid the blade from its sheath and held it up. The bone was a dull yellow, the rusted red of past kills discoloring it. The leather hilt around the tang had softened to Dean's touch, formed to his hand.

He thought of his mother's fearlessness, of her hand over his. The Witches' request for an alliance. His father's belief in war.

Dean sheathed the blade, fingers lingering over the bone pommel. He looked up to find himself in the garden, standing before the Gladiolus. Their stalks rose tall and high, flowers larger than average in bloom. His own red chrysanthemums edged in low underneath from the left, his brother's white ones from the right. His father's Wormwood was not visible from this angle. Dean traced the edge of a purple Gladiolus with his fingers and thought perhaps that was the way it should be.

 

* * *

 

The woman, when she arrived, was accompanied by her daughter and two sons. She stood tall and regal, red hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, pink lips a gentle contrast to her pale skin. She wore a green dress hemmed with yellow flowers (Celandine, Dean noted absently). A heavy woolen cloak draped over her shoulders. A man stood just behind, his hand resting against her back, his eyes narrowed, lip curled into a sneer. He wore no cloak, only a heavy leather coat that fell to his knees. He watched as John stepped forward and offered his hand to Anna- a handshake, a sign of equals.

"I'm John Winchester-Campbell," he introduced. "These are my sons, Dean and Sam."

Dean tipped his head in greeting and knew Sam was doing the same. She smiled at them all.

"I'm Anna Elliff. This is my eldest, Balthazar." Balthazar made no move of greeting. "My younger son and my daughter, Castiel and Hannah."

They moved forward, steps in unison, the same dark hair, the same stiff posture. Castiel was tanned where Hannah took after her mother. Both wore cloaks closed tightly, hiding their bodies from view. Castiel mimicked Dean's greeting while Hannah managed a tight smile.

"It's good to meet you all," John said. "Dean will show your children their rooms. I will take you to yours, Anna."

"That sounds wonderful, John." Anna smiled again, her expression genuine. She accepted the hand John held out to her, letting him fold hers over his arm. He led her into the house, his voice lingering behind as he described it to her.

Dean watched as Castiel and Hannah stepped forward to stand beside Balthazar, their expressions clear of emotion. Balthazar drew his eyes away from the house to stare at Dean.

"Where is she being lodged?"

"In the guest hall."

"We won't be with her?" Hannah asked.

"The children of guests usually stay in our wing." Dean hesitated. "I can see about moving you, but we will need time to-"

"No." The word broke through the sound of Dean's voice with firmness. Castiel turned his eyes onto Dean, attention focused sharply. "We will follow tradition." 

Castiel glanced at Balthazar. Balthazar frowned back, but Castiel turned away. He stepped forward. He raised his hand to gesture toward the house, his cloak opening to reveal the simple black tunic and pants he wore, silver blade hung at his hip. Blue flashed from under his cloak.

"Please lead the way, Dean."

Dean turned, glancing at Sam who only shrugged. Castiel followed Dean. Hannah followed Castiel, and Balthazar her. Sam came last, closing the door behind them.

 

* * *

 

Balthazar, Castiel, and Hannah were given the rooms across the hall from Dean and Sam. Balthazar took the one closest to the stairs; Castiel accepted the one across from Dean while Hannah took the one at the end. She smiled that same tight smile and murmured thanks before closing the door and leaving Dean alone in the hall with Castiel. Castiel watched her go before he turned to Dean.

"When is the evening meal?"

"Uh... a few hours from now. Someone will come to get you."

Castiel nodded and tugged on the clasp of his cloak, freeing it. He swung it around his body and draped it over his arm, careless, eyes wandering the hall. "Is there anywhere we are not permitted to go?"

Dean shook his head. "Personal rooms, of course, but other than that, we have no secrets from you."

Castiel focused on Dean again, the blue of his eyes ice sharp. "Will someone be available to show us around?"

"I can do it," Sam answered as he left his room. "Would you like to go now?"

Castiel shook his head. "I would like to freshen up. The journey took longer than we expected with the weather."

Sam nodded in agreement. He stepped closer, his shoulder bumping Dean's. Castiel's eyes dropped to the movement before he looked back up at Dean, then over at Sam.

"I'll be in the library." Sam pointed to an open doorway. "You- and Hannah and Balthazar, of course- can come get me when you're ready. Or if you need anything."

"And you?" Castiel asked of Dean.

Dean snorted. "I have an evening meal to prepare. You can bother me if you don't want to eat." He turned away, leaving Sam's heavy sigh and Castiel's cold stare behind him.

 

* * *

 

Dean stayed in the kitchen until everyone was seated, checking over the meal. Pamela's eyes were sharp on him as she entered the kitchen.

"They're seated," she told him. She put a hand to his arm, drawing his attention up. "You should go sit."

"This is my-"

"No, Dean, it's not." She smiled. "Not tonight anyway."

She let go of his arm and patted his hip. "They are waiting and you should keep your promise to your father."

Dean glared at her, but she only turned her back on him. She fussed at the trays, wiping up spilled soup and checking that all dishes were present. Dean watched for a moment, not ready yet, then turned and headed into the dining room.

At the table, Anna sat beside his father's place at the head of the table. Their mother's seat next to him sat empty; Anna would only sit there once she had married John. Dean sat across from Anna with Sam next to him. Her children sat beside her. Balthazar leaned heavily on his elbow, wine glass already in hand. He watched with a raised eyebrow as Dean drew his seat out and sat down.

"Dinner will be out shortly," he told the room without looking up.

"Thank you, Dean." John turned to Anna. "While I hunt, Dean tends to matters here. He joins me for larger hunts that require multiple people, but mostly he takes after his mother."

"Hunt?" Castiel asked.

"The southern borders edge wilderness," Sam started to explain. He paused as Pamela entered the room, a line of servants behind her, all bearing trays. She served John first. Servants stepped past to serve the Elliffs and then Dean and Sam.

"This smells delicious," Hannah commented.

Balthazar made a dismissive noise, but Anna smiled at Dean. "Did you make this?"

"It's Dean's recipe, but usually Pamela cooks," John answered for Dean.

"Ah." Anna spooned soup into her mouth. "It's wonderful," she praised. Dean flushed and looked down.

Sam cleared his throat. "Anyway, the southern borders- the lands there are untamed."

Dean looked up as Sam continued to explain the hunt and how their family supplied meat, internals, and furs to various businesses. John leaned toward Anna and the two spoke in soft voices to each other. Balthazar ignored everyone and drank. Hannah and Castiel listened intently to Sam, but when he felt the weight of Dean's stare, Castiel turned his eyes to Dean. Their gazes met. The ice of his eyes had thawed, and Dean thought of the river that ran wild just past the city, waters deep but clear, the soothing touch of coolness.

He looked away.

 

* * *

 

Dean paused in the doorway to the garden, inhaling the scent of wet earth and green life into his lungs. He pushed aside the low hanging vines and walked barefoot in the grass. The night air sent a chill through him and he pulled his robe tighter around his body. The hanging lamps glowed dimly with the day's leftover light. The garden was dark; the moon a crescent in the sky above him. Dean muttered a spell under his breath and the lamps brightened.

A gasp startled Dean, his hand going to his hip though his blade was still in his room.

"Who's there?" he called out.

"Castiel,” came the answer in a rough voice.

Dean relaxed and moved further into the garden to find Castiel standing beside a lamp, his hand raised to touch the glass. He wore the cloak he'd arrived in; under it he wore night clothes.

"It lit up," he said to Dean.

"I used a spell," Dean answered, studying Castiel's face. Gone was the blankness from earlier that day. Instead of ice or river, his eyes were mid-afternoon sky. Delight eased his expression into a child-like smoothness instead of the sharp angles he had worn through the day.

"You control light?" Castiel asked, turning. His hand dropped away from the lantern and he stepped closer to Dean.

Dean shook his head. "They capture sunlight during the day. I used a spell to make them release more than they would usually."

Castiel frowned. "Capture sunlight?"

Dean touched the leaf of the plant closest to him. "How plants do it. They catch the sunlight and turn it into energy, life." Dean stroked his fingers over the edge, feeling its softness. "We use a spell to mimic the plants and then another to control it."

"Magic is very interesting," Castiel commented, turning back to the lantern. He spun it slowly, investigating the shape and build of it, the iron and glass, the etched symbols.

"You don't have magic?" Dean asked as he came closer, eyes tracking Castiel's fingers.

Castiel shook his head. "It's considered... not evil exactly, but..." Castiel trailed off. He let go of the lantern to watch it swing back and forth on its chain. "Our lamps use fire."

Dean laughed. "Most of ours do too," he admitted, "but we don't use fire in the garden, not unless it's a very cold winter."

Castiel looked around him. A bird chirped at the edge of the wall, drawing his attention upward. The bird hopped in place, then flew down to land in the branches of a small tree on the other side of the garden. Castiel shifted in place to watch it, head tipped to the side.

"You don't seem to mind it," Dean said.

Castiel glanced at him.

"The magic," he clarified.

Castiel's expression shifted, the lines of his face hardening, the ice creeping back into his gaze. He studied Dean for a moment before looking away. "No," he finally allowed.

Dean opened his mouth, but closed it again, at a loss. He turned away to watch as the bird hopped between branches, head cocking to watch the two men.

"Is there meaning to the garden?" Castiel asked, breaking the silence. The bird fluttered to the top of the tree, startled by Castiel's voice. "I ask because the placement of the plants seems deliberate."

Dean looked away from the bird to find Castiel watching him curiously. "It's not magic if that's what you're asking."

Castiel's brows furrowed as he squinted at Dean.

Dean bit back a smile. "Our parents give us flowers when we're born. Not magic, but, uh, hopes I guess. They become part of our personal identity." Dean moved to the center of the garden where his family's flowers were located. He touched his mother's Gladiolus.

"My mother. They mean strength of character, honor." He pointed to his own and then to Sam's. "Chrysanthemums. Mine are red for love. _I love._ My mother picked them because she wanted me to grow up loved." Dean kept his eyes away from Castiel. "White means loyalty. My mom says I picked them. I insisted that Sam was loyal."

"How old were you?" Castiel asked. His voice was a low rumble near Dean's shoulder, and he started at Castiel's proximity. Castiel looked up at him, unmoved.

"Four. I was four when Sam was born."

"And you knew even then." A small smile curled the corner of Castiel's mouth. He knelt and cupped a white chrysanthemum in the palm of his hand, fingers parting around the stem. "What about your father?"

Dean hesitated, but answered, "Wormwood. Absence. Bitter sorrow."

Castiel made no comment, his attention on the flower in his hand, but he sighed, head dropping low for a moment. He pushed himself to his feet.

"Do all the plants have meaning?"

"Yeah. Most gardens are the same, same sentiments. Happiness, joy, delight-" Dean waved his hand. "I'm sure you can guess."

Castiel smiled again. "I can."

"Anyway. We have our flowers, of course, but we also have those of close family friends." Dean pointed to the flowers near the doors. "It's a sign of welcome. That they will always be welcome here."

"That's a lovely sentiment," Castiel commented. He frowned, eyes turning back to Mary's flowers. "My mother doesn't have a flower."

"My dad will pick one out and then give it to her for the wedding."

Castiel considered this, frowning slightly. "Will we pick our own?"

"We?" Dean asked.

"Hannah and Balthazar. I have mine already."

Dean stared at Castiel. "You have a flower?"

Castiel nodded. He gripped the hem of his cloak and lifted his arm to bare the underside. It was lined with blue fabric. In the shine of the lanterns Dean could see stitching. He reached out and pulled the cloak closer to his face, Castiel letting go to give Dean freedom. Stitched in a dark blue thread were flowers dotted along the branches of a tree.

"Almond blossom," Castiel named.

"Hope."

Castiel smiled. "Hope," he repeated. "After Balthazar, my mother feared she would never be able to have children again. Before she got pregnant with me, she dreamed of me. She found me sitting at the bottom of an almond tree in full bloom, flowers falling from the branches to cover the ground. She picked me up and held me. Asked me who I was. I gave her my name then, and when I was born, she knew."

Castiel gently pulled the cloak from Dean's hand, holding it to trace his fingers over the pattern stitched there.

"I don't think she knows what it means, but she's always- I've always had it."

Castiel raised his eyes to look at Dean, still smiling. Dean stared at him and the smile faded away.

"Is something-"

Dean stepped back with a sharp shake of his head. "I need to get to bed," Dean spoke over Castiel's question. He turned, leaving Castiel alone in the garden, not remembering until he was in his room that he’d left the lanterns lit. Their sunlight would be gone by morning.

 

* * *

 

"She's precognitive?" Sam asked.

Dean made a face at Sam, who sighed and clarified: "She can see the future?"

Dean shrugged a shoulder. He slouched further down in his chair. "I guess. Castiel said she dreamed him- why does this matter?"

Sam frowned at him. "Uh, it doesn't I guess, but it makes sense now why the Witches chose her."

"Does it?"

"The Witches think they can see and control the future, Dean. It makes sense they would want to control someone who could do that. Especially if she's from a culture that devalues that kind of power."

"Do you think she really-"

"It doesn't matter if she does," Sam interrupted. He sat down across from Dean, bracing an elbow on the table. "They believe she does."

"What does that mean for us? Why do they want Dad to marry her?"

"He's a Winchester. Power has always resided in the line."

"Dad has nothing. We have nothing."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Dean. I'm speculating."

Dean nodded. His fingers wandered to his blade, tracing the line of teeth in the bone jaw.

"Castiel has a flower," Dean admitted. "Anna gave it to him."

Sam sat upright, attention on Dean. "What do you mean?"

"The dream- the Castiel dream- there was an almond tree in it. The flowers were in the dream. His cloak, the one he wears all the time, it's embroidered with them."

Sam hummed. "Almond blossoms. Hope." He frowned.

"It's weird, right?" Dean asked. "It's weird that she would give him a flower and then the Witches would bring them here."

Sam studied him for a moment "Yeah, but- hope, Dean."

"That could mean anything."

"Dean-"

Dean stood. "Flowers aren't- they aren't part of the Witches. If you think the flowers have an- are important like that, then what of this?" Dean hefted his blade. "What about yours?"

Sam's own Gifting was also a weapon, a silver blade serrated along one edge and engraved with ancient symbols.

"These aren't normal weapons, Sam. You _know_ that."

Sam leaned back in his seat, expression weary. "Dean-"

"It's not right," Dean argued as he sheathed his blade.

Sam didn't respond, so Dean left him alone in the library.

 

* * *

 

His mother's room was large and empty. Castiel paced the length of it, eyes taking in the details. Bookcases lined the walls, but bore no books. The dresser and the vanity sat empty, stretches of dark wood that were undamaged with lack of use. The adjoining bathroom had no toiletries, but, Castiel noted, it had linens.

"I would have thought a good night's sleep would have put my sons in better moods," Anna commented.

Castiel turned to find Anna watching as they inspected the room. Hannah stood behind her, brushing her hair. She met her mother's eyes in the mirror and smiled slightly.

"I'm only curious," Castiel said. Balthazar sighed heavily.

Anna smiled at them both. "They chose to let me furnish as I wanted. I am to spend six months in this room. Are yours comfortable?" she asked to change the subject. Castiel glanced at Balthazar. He shrugged.

"I was thinking of taking a room at one of the city inns," Balthazar said. "I still need to conduct business and they are too far for it to be easily managed."

Anna frowned at him. She turned, Hannah pulling her hands away, to study Balthazar. "You should get to know them, Balthazar. They are going to be your family soon."

Castiel looked down at his hands.

"Mother, we've only been here a day."

"And you are already planning to leave."

Balthazar shook his head. He stepped forward to press a kiss to Anna's cheek, his hand resting on her arm. "I will return, but I can't let the business flounder while I am away. Besides, there’s very little trouble to be had in the middle of nowhere.”

Anna laughed and covered his hand with her own. "Even though the Father may forbid me from keeping you from trouble, I still expect you here for dinner every night."

Balthazar made a face, but nodded at his mother's glare. "As you wish."

He pressed a kiss to Hannah's cheek and shared a look with Castiel before he left, leaving them alone with their mother. Castiel moved closer, sitting at the edge of the bed as Anna turned back to the vanity. Hannah teased her fingers through her hair.

"Would you like it braided today?"

Anna shook her head. "No, let it be."

Hannah smiled and sat beside Castiel. They watched as she fussed with her make-up. Neither Hannah nor Castiel had been interested, though Balthazar had some minor interest. Anna herself loved it in the same way she loved to layer her robes: as an art form.

"Hope." Castiel broke the silence.

Anna and Hannah both turned to look at him. Castiel shifted, folding the edge of his cloak over his lap to reveal the blue lining. "The flowers, the almonds, they mean hope."

Hannah tipped her head in confusion, but Anna smiled widely. She spun on her chair and leaned forward to put her fingers to the fabric. "Hope," she repeated. "My hope. I didn't know."

"How did you find out?" Hannah asked.

"Dean told me. It's tradition here for mothers to give their children flowers upon their birth."

"That's interesting," Hannah commented.

Anna leaned back, smiling again. "What's Dean's flower?" she asked.

"Red chrysanthemum. Sam’s is white. Love and loyalty."

Hannah's eyebrow arched up.

"What about John's?"

Castiel looked up from his cloak to meet his mother's eyes. He hesitated. "Wormwood."

Her smile faded.

"Grief. Sorrow."

"For his wife."

Castiel nodded. "She had Gladiolus. Honor."

"That's a good flower." Anna turned around to the vanity again. Castiel watched her in the mirror as she considered. He waited for grief, dismay, upset, but she only smiled slightly. She took the lid off a container of powder and spun a brush through it. She lifted her eyes to meet his in the mirror for a moment before she brushed the powder across her cheeks.

"We should all be so lucky to have such a good flower."

Castiel frowned. "I like my almonds."

Anna laughed.

 

* * *

 

  
_Portrait of Castiel Elliff by Aceriee_


	3. Falling Together

His mother's dreams were the closest Castiel had ever come to magic. He had never questioned them; he knew too well how true those dreams could be. What he had not known was how much _more_ there was to magic.

Castiel held a lantern in his hand, one he had pilfered from the garden where it was tucked in a back corner. He knew it worked; he'd seen it glowing, though it glowed dimmer than the rest because it sat in shadow most of the day. 

With his other hand, he traced the seams of it. It was welded- he could see the knots of melted metal. There was no opening, no latch. Castiel supposed there didn't need to be, not if it just gathered sunlight. There would be no oil to refill or wick to replace.

Castiel rolled the lamp in his hand so he could peer at the bottom. It was solid. He sat it down on the desk in his room. He tapped a finger against one of the glass panes. He could break it, could peek inside, and hang it back up. He doubted anyone would know, not with the rust built up on the edges, the dirt embedded in the frame, the spots of bird droppings.

Castiel sighed and glanced out his window. The sun sat low on the horizon, the sky burning orange and red before fading to a sulky blue that gave way to the black of night. Castiel picked up the lantern and headed for the garden.

Sam was kneeling in the grass, digging in the bed of flowers, fingers half hidden in the dirt. He blinked up at Castiel, hair falling in his face. Castiel hid the lantern behind his leg.

"Oh. Hello." He sat back on his heels and pushed his hair out of his face.

"Hello, Sam. What are you doing?"

Sam shrugged. "Just taking care of them." He waved at the white chrysanthemums and dirt fell from his fingers. "What do you have there?" Sam frowned at Castiel's hand.

Castiel looked down to see the lantern was half visible. He held it up so Sam could see. Sam raised his eyebrows at Castiel.

"I was curious. Dean said a spell."

Sam laughed. He clapped his hands together, knocking loose the dirt that clung there, and climbed to his feet. "That's right. Dean told me you guys don't like magic."

Castiel nodded. Sam took the lantern from him and tipped it upside down. He pointed under the lid where Castiel could now see hinges were hidden.

"We don't get in them often, but we do need to sometimes."

Sam dug under the lid and, with a click, the top flipped back. He turned the lantern upright and offered it to Castiel. He peered inside, but it was empty. 

"How does it work?"

"The glass is spelled," Sam said as Castiel closed the lid. Sam took the lantern from him and began to explain the process, fingers pointing to the symbols that covered it. Castiel watched his hands move over the glass and thought of the way Dean had touched the flowers in his cloak.

 

* * *

 

Sam did not use magic, not the way Dean did. Sam had only shrugged and said he liked working with his hands. He preferred to perform harder magics, magics that were complex and uncommon. Dean, Sam explained, thought of magic like a tool and he used it as such. Sam was happy to explain, happy to show Castiel his books and the words. He showed Castiel smaller spells and let Castiel play. He praised Castiel the first time he lit a candle, and Castiel couldn't help the smile that came to his face.

Dean did not spend his time studying as Sam did. Instead he ran the house. He rose early in the morning before the sun had broken the horizon and saw to breakfast. He gave the servants their jobs and met with his father about finances and requests for work. He prepared the mid-day meal and the evening meal. He made sure the house was cleaned, clothes and linens laundered, the gardens tended. Castiel watched him work, watched the casual way he would use magic, just as Sam had said. Dean lit lanterns without moving from his chair, fixed broken tools, and coaxed the kitchen fires to life even when there was no wood.

Castiel took to walking with Dean. He followed Dean to the kitchens and watched him work. Dean would frown at him, but he never requested Castiel to leave. He chose, instead, to ignore Castiel. Castiel watched Dean as he worked magic, but as the month dragged on, he found himself just watching Dean.

The first time he watched Dean, a young woman from a neighboring home came to him. She wore her blonde hair loose and was dressed in slacks with a dark tunic tied tight. A knife was belted to her thigh. Dean stood at the stove, muttering under his breath as he worked. The frown that carried over from his work melted into a smile at the sight of her standing in the kitchen doorway, arms folded over her chest. Dean rose and crossed the room to her, wrapping her in a tight hug.

Castiel ignored their greeting to peer into Dean's pot, disappointed to find that it was just soup. Castiel tasted it and sighed, eyes closed, as the warmth of herbs and potatoes flushed across his tongue. He had never had anything so delicious.

"What are you doin' here?" Dean's voice drew Castiel's attention away from his cooking. Dean and the woman had separated.

She shrugged. "Momma wanted me to bring down some of our harvest for trade."

"How's Ellen doing? And Bobby?" Dean gestured for her to leave the kitchen, following after her. Castiel trailed behind, pausing in the doorway to watch as they circled around to the back of the woman's wagon.

"...think they have a thing," she was saying. "They've been making gross eyes at each other."

"Really?" Dean tossed his head back to laugh. The woman looked disgruntled, reaching out to slap Dean's arm.

"It's not funny. I have to watch them flirt."

Dean's laughter eased and he shook his head. "Poor Jo," he teased. "I bet that's all kinds of awful, knowing your mom is gettin' some."

Jo shrieked and punched Dean again. They both laughed as Jo dropped the end of the wagon open and reached in to pull a basket to the edge. Dean dragged it to him, shifting through the contents.

"These are new," he commented, lifting a fruit Castiel had never seen and turning it around in his hand.

Jo nodded. "A hybrid." She took a deep breath. "It was Ash's."

Dean lowered the fruit and turned to look at her. She offered him a weak smile. Something in her expression had Dean pushing the basket back into the wagon and taking her into his arms again. She set her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes while he rubbed her back. After a moment, Jo pushed away, knuckling at the corner of her eye with a shaky laugh.

"Quit makin' me cry, you ass."

Dean huffed at her. "Quit cryin', you baby."

Jo rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth curled up into a smile. She turned back to the wagon and dragged another basket to the edge. "Check these out," she said as Castiel headed back into the house, uninterested in household trade and embarrassed to have witnessed a stranger’s grief.

 

* * *

 

The next time Castiel was able to see Dean use his magic, he was fixing broken toys. Castiel and Hannah stood on the front porch of the Winchester-Campbell home when a woman and her son entered the main gate. She had a bag draped over her shoulder, her other hand curled around her son's.

"Hello," she called when she was close enough. "Is Dean home?"

Castiel stepped toward her. "Yes. He's-"

"Right here," Dean interrupted. 

Castiel looked over his shoulder to see Dean stride through the entry door, a wide grin on his face. The boy broke away from his mother and ran to Dean, shouting his name. Dean knelt and rolled with the boy's tackle.

"Ooof, Ben! You're getting big!"

Ben scoffed and pushed off Dean, nearly knocking him over again. Dean laughed and shoved himself to his feet as Ben's mother approached.

"Hey, Lisa." Dean leaned forward as she did, pressing a kiss to her cheek just shy of her mouth. Lisa pulled back to smile warmly at him. She slung the bag free from her arm and handed it off.

"Hi, Dean. We've got some more repairs."

Dean opened the bag and peered into it. He made an annoyed sound in his throat and glanced over at Ben who avoided Dean's eyes. "Really?" he asked the boy.

Ben shrugged, his face turning red.

"Tell you what? How 'bout I show you how to fix this on your own?"

Ben's head whipped around and he stared at Dean with wide eyes, mouth dropped open. "Really?" he squealed, lurching toward Dean.

Dean laughed and dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged. "Yeah, kid. Your mom said I could start showing you stuff. Fixin' things is pretty simple."

Dean upended the bag to reveal several toys missing pieces or broken apart.

"Are you going to use magic?" Castiel asked, leaning over Dean to peer at the pile with interest. He ignored Hannah's sigh.

Dean squinted up at him, his face suspicious. "Yeah."

"Do you mind if I watch? Sam has been trying to teach me, but I haven't been able to figure out much yet." The candle had proved to be the extent of Castiel’s talent, though he still tried.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, 'cause Sam would have started you with somethin' complicated. Fine. You can listen but no butting in." He pointed at Castiel with a glare. 

Castiel smiled at him and started to kneel. Hannah's grip on his elbow stopped him and he turned to find her frowning at him. 

"Are we done?" she asked.

"For now. I will find you later?"

She nodded and dropped his arm. With a glance at Dean, then back at him, she left. He watched her go, but his attention snapped to Dean when he began to explain to Ben the process of magical repair.

"Look, these are easiest because you're just telling it to be itself." Dean lined up three broken pieces into what appeared to be a stick. It was carved with symbols and Dean matched the ends based on the breaks. "Watch," he ordered Ben.

The boy leaned forward, putting his face close to Dean's hand where it hovered over the break. He frowned with concentration, and Castiel glanced at Dean's face to see him roll his lips as he fought a smile. Dean flicked his fingers over one of the breaks. Ben's eyes went wide and Castiel drew in a sharp breath as the ends of the stick melted together, the designs seamless.

"Cool," Ben breathed.

"You think you can do it?" Dean asked through his grin. He pointed at the other break.

Ben pursed his lips and reached out to touch the break. Nothing happened. With a huff Ben closed his eyes and focused. The break still remained. Ben gave a defeated sigh and dropped his hand.

"No pouting," Dean appeased as he squeezed Ben's shoulder. "It takes a little practice. What did you try?"

His expression soothing out, Ben began to explain what he had tried. Castiel's attention wandered and he found his gaze drifting up to watch Dean's face. He listened intently as Ben spoke, nodding to show he understood, eyes focused on Ben's face or his hands. Castiel watched as Dean wrapped his hands around Ben's and guided them over the stick. He explained to Ben what the boy had done wrong, teasing gently and then correcting. When he encouraged Ben to try again, Castiel watched Dean watch Ben, his expression soft, eyes fond and warm, mouth curved in a smile Castiel knew was unintentional. When Ben repaired the toy and launched himself at Dean in delight, Dean laughed, his eyes crinkling, his mouth opening wide. He hugged Ben and congratulated him before Ben pulled away and knelt next to Dean to demand more.

Dean glanced over at Castiel, his amusement tempered, and raised an eyebrow. Castiel flushed and looked away, his gaze catching on Lisa where she stood watching. She met Castiel’s gaze and smiled at him. It was almost sympathetic, though Castiel wasn't sure why it should be. He smiled in return, ignoring the implications, and turned back to listen as Dean explained how repairing missing pieces was more complicated.

 

* * *

 

Sam sat in the library at one of the large tables in the center, curled over his book, taking notes without looking at his paper. Castiel sat across the room from him, tucked into one of the large chairs Sam had set in the corners of the room for leisure reading, legs curled under him, book resting in his lap. While researching his own magical pursuits, Sam had found a beginner's book on the theory of magic and given it to Castiel. Castiel flipped through it, getting a feel for the contents before he flipped back to the front and began reading in earnest.

Castiel jumped when the main doors to the library slammed open and John strode in, steps thumping heavily against the wood floors. Sam glanced up, then sat back, tucking his notes into the binding of his book and closing it.

"Dad," he greeted, shoulders stiff, expression leery.

"Dean told me you refused to help with the hunting preparations."

"I didn't refuse. I asked if he would mind if I continued studying."

John sighed in irritation. "That's refusing, Sam. I get that you want to pursue your magical studies, but you can't ignore the family in order to do it."

"I'm not," Sam argued. "Dean is perfectly capable of handling the hunt and he had no problems with me skipping out. You know he'd tell me if he needed me."

"That's not the point, Sam. You need-"

Sam ran a hand through his hair and cut John off. "I don't need to do anything. You and Dean take care of the house and the business. We all know that Dean is going to be the one to inherit everything."

"That doesn't mean you have no responsibility here, especially not when you are still living on my good graces."

"Good graces?" Sam lurched to his feet, his face darkening with color as he glared at his father. "You're our father! Taking care of us isn't you being generous!"

"You're a grown man, Sam. You are living on my generosity."

"Or what? You'll kick me out? Kick Dean out?"

"Dean does what he's supposed to!"

Sam scoffed and sat back down. He slammed his book open and shoved his notes aside. "Dean does everything while you hide in the forest and drink."

John went silent, glaring at Sam. Sam ignored him and focused on his book.

"You are insolent," John started, but Sam cut him off again.

"Let's see how Dean feels about you trying to kick me out." Sam returned his father's angry look. "You and I both know he won't allow it to happen."

"He can't stop me."

"You won't stop him," Sam shot back. "He takes care of everything, and you are satisfied to take advantage of it." Sam turned back to his book. John stared at him for a long moment before he spun on his heel and stormed from the room.

Castiel watched Sam, chewing on his bottom lip, wondering if it was his place to offer comfort. Sam didn't look his direction, focusing instead on his notes. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed as he fell into the rhythm of research. Appeased, Castiel returned to his own book. He read through a few chapters before the doors opened and closed again. Castiel glanced up at Sam to see him tense. Whoever was approaching had Sam's shoulders immediately relaxing, however.

Dean sat down across from Sam, his back to Castiel.

"Dad said you yelled at him," Dean said.

Sam shrugged. "He insisted I threw a fit to get out of the hunt."

Dean sighed. He leaned back in his chair, legs splayed beneath the table, head tipped back to look at the ceiling. "I told him I made you go study."

"You know he doesn't-"

"Sam."

"Whatever." Sam tucked his chin down and focused on his books again.

Dean let Sam ignore him for a moment, eyes still on the ceiling. Eventually he looked back at Sam. "You can't ignore me forever."

"I'm not ignoring you, Dean. This isn't something we're going to agree on."

"Maybe," Dean allowed. "But you do gotta follow my lead."

"And you sent me here."

"Generally speaking, Sam."

Sam huffed a laugh. "I do that as well."

"My ass you do."

Sam smirked at Dean, amusement splashed across his face. Dean leaned forward, resting an elbow on the table and knocking his knuckles against it. "You gotta start coming on hunts, Sam. You don't have to go every time, but you can't be skipping out every time either."

"Is that _your_ compromise?"

"Dad just wants to know you're involved."

"This would help the business." Sam tapped the books. "This is just the foundation for building solid spellwork. If I get good enough, I can-"

Dean waved a hand to cut Sam off. "I know, I know. Just... play nice occasionally, yeah?"

"What about our guests?"

"Well, Balthazar's coming," Dean answered, surprising Castiel.

"Really?" Sam echoed Castiel's thought.

Dean shrugged. "Told him it wasn't going to be all that glamorous, but he insisted. So did Hannah." Castiel wasn't surprised to hear Hannah wanted to hunt; she was always interested in sport and this would be something new to her. "Haven't seen Cas around."

Sam cleared his throat, his face reddening. He pointed past Dean's shoulders and Dean turned to see Castiel curled in his chair. Dean started at the sight of him, then glared, swinging around in his seat to turn the dark look on Sam.

"How long he's been there?"

Sam grinned wolfishly. "The whole time."

Dean groaned. "Dammit, Sam." He turned back around, his expression still sour. "You gonna hunt?" he asked.

Castiel shook his head. "Not this time. Sam recommended a book on-"

Dean turned around to Sam, cutting off Castiel's answer. "Fine. You dorks stay here. I'll tell Dad you're babysitting. But when Cas goes on the hunt, so do you."

Sam shook his head. "Fine. Whatever, Dean."

"Yeah. Whatever," Dean echoed. He stood up and stretched. He shot Castiel a look over his shoulder and left the library. Sam offered Castiel an apologetic shrug before he turned back to his research.

Castiel finished his chapter and then excused himself. He wandered the house until he found his mother in the main sitting room with a small group of women. Castiel watched as they shared stitching between them.

Anna wore a simple dress, but the brightly dyed fabric made her stand out amongst the simpler garments that had clearly faded over time. The other women- household servants, Castiel guessed- paid no mind and chatted with his mother as if she had lived and worked with them for years.

Before Castiel could draw attention to himself, Anna turned and smiled at him over her shoulder. She patted the seat beside her.

"Come sit with us, Castiel."

Castiel returned her smile and obeyed. As soon as he was seated, his mother handed him a small swatch of fabric and a needle.

"This needs to be repaired."

Castiel flipped it open to see that it was a pillowcase embroidered with red flowers.

"Mr. Winchester-Campbell's chrysanthemums," a blonde girl across the circle told him.

"Ah." Castiel nodded, mentally comparing the stitching with the plants he'd seen in Dean's garden. The fabric flowers were stylized, but now that Castiel knew what they were, he could see the pattern of them.

He folded the pillowcase in his lap and found the tear in the hem. He accepted a skein from the dark haired woman next to him and threaded his needle. All the women watched as he began stitching.

The blonde girl from before snorted. "None of the men here know how to sew."

"It's a very valuable skill," Castiel commented, glancing up at her. She stared back until Castiel lowered his eyes to focus on his work.

"All of my children know how to sew," Anna told her. "Castiel and Hannah both keep up with it, but Balthazar chooses to hire out the work."

"Mary didn't know how to sew," an older woman across the circle commented. "I don't know if John was ever taught."

"So it makes sense that Dean and Sam don't know," Castiel said.

The blonde girl snorted while some of the other women giggled. "They could always ask us."

Castiel smiled at her. "Fair enough."

The women turned to chat amongst themselves, and Anna leaned over to pat Castiel's knee. She smiled at him when he glanced up- always proud of her children.

 

* * *

 

As Castiel approached the garden, he heard voices rise in volume before cutting off. He hesitated and then peeked through the door. Dean and John stood in the center of the garden beside Mary's Gladiolus, facing each other. Dean had his arms crossed over his chest and he glared angrily at his father.

"Sam doesn't need to-"

"It's family, Dean! He should want to be involved."

"That doesn't mean he has to join every hunt or not want things for himself, Dad."

John turned to pace the garden. "He's never been involved."

"He's a kid," Dean defended. "You can't expect him to- to just throw away his childhood and-"

"I expect him to care!" John spun on Dean, but Dean just shook his head.

"He cares. Just because he doesn't care the way you care-"

"Dean-"

"Dad, no. Just. Lay off. You want him to stick around, you gotta- you can't push him away."

John was silent for a moment, and Castiel saw Dean's eyes widen slightly before his expression hardened.

"Stick around?" John asked, his voice low and dark. "Stick around? Is he planning on leaving?"

Dean closed his eyes, mouth pinching tight. "That's not what I'm saying, Dad. Are you even listening?"

John stepped into Dean's space, chest pushed out. Castiel tensed, ready to step in if John got physical, but Dean seemed fearless. He sneered at his father.

"Don't tell me about my own son, Dean."

"Don't act like you know everything," Dean shot back. John stepped away, his body shaking with rage. Dean held his ground.

Castiel eased back. He wanted to watch; he was wary of John and John's behavior toward his son, but Dean seemed unmoved by it. He hadn't uncrossed his arms, so he must not expect to be hit. Castiel stood, trying to decide what to do, when he heard one of them sigh.

"I just want what's best for you boys." John's voice had lost its anger. Castiel inched forward again to see John's shoulders had sagged. The man reached out to touch one of the Gladiolus, not quite making contact with the purple bloom. Dean dropped his arms and stepped up beside his father.

"I get it, Dad, but you gotta give Sam some space."

"So he's not going to go on the hunt."

Dean shook his head. "He and Cas have something goin' on ."

John turned his head to look at Dean. Dean shrugged.

"Cas has been learning magic, I guess. Sam's been helping."

John nodded. "It's good that he's learning if he's going to stay here."

"Guy’s got no talent for it." Dean chuckled. "I caught him trying to fix some of Anna's old jewelry."

In his hiding place, Castiel flushed with embarrassment. He hadn't known Dean had seen that.

"Did he burn himself?"

"Near about," Dean said with another laugh.

Castiel scowled in Dean's direction and decided he'd had enough. He slunk back down the hallway, heading for his room so that he could pout in peace.

 

* * *

 

"So did the book help?" Sam asked as Castiel relaxed into a chair across from him. Hannah sat down next to Castiel, accepting the book on government that Sam pushed toward her.

Castiel nodded. "It's very interesting to read. Many of the concepts are still abstract though."

"Well, it's a whole new practice for you, I guess," Sam allowed. "Once you manage to work some magic, I think you'll find it makes sense." He turned to Hannah. "That's probably the most comprehensive book we own. I think Bobby has one better so I've sent someone to find out."

Hannah paged through the book. "This should be enough to get started," Hannah answered. She smiled up at Sam. "Thank you for finding this for me."

Sam smiled back. "Of course. I'd be interested in any books on your country if you have some."

Hannah thought a moment before a light blush colored her cheeks. "Nothing practical. Just a few... fantasy stories."

Castiel laughed and ducked his head against Hannah's irritation. Sam chuckled. "That's fine."

"Oh! But Balthazar said he was going to take a trip next week; I can have him bring some back."

"That would be great." Sam beamed at Hannah, delighted in the idea of new knowledge.

Castiel couldn't help the smile that curled his mouth. He watched as Hannah reopened the book, starting at the beginning. Sam watched her for a moment, too, before turning to Castiel.

"Did you want another book? Or we can try some of the simpler spells out?"

Castiel sighed. "I've been trying on my own and have had no luck."

Sam’s expression was sympathetic. "It takes a bit of getting used to. It took me a couple years before I was good enough to do even half the things that Dean can do."

"Oh?" Castiel asked, leaning forward slightly.

Sam nodded. "He's got a natural talent for it. Most things he only needs to hear once or twice, maybe a few more times if it's more complicated."

Castiel leaned back again and recalled watching him fix the toys the boy Ben had brought with his mother. "I've noticed that he does many things thoughtlessly."

Sam didn't answer and Castiel glanced up to see Sam staring at him with narrowed eyes. Castiel flushed as he realized what he'd said.

"I didn't mean- I just meant- it seems to flow from him. He doesn't have to think-" Castiel cut himself off as Sam's dark look shifted into a smile.

"So you've been watching him?"

Castiel felt more heat rush to his face and ducked his head down. He played with the book on the table in front of him and shrugged slightly. "On occasion."

 

* * *

 

Castiel woke to heavy thumping. A door slammed in the hallway and then a woman's high pitched giggle broke the silence of the night.

"Goddammit, Charlie," Castiel heard Dean hiss. "You're gonna wake everyone."

"It's just you and Sam-"

"Not anymore. Come here."

Castiel heard a door close and rose to peek into the hallway. It was still empty and dark except for the light that glowed under Dean's door. Castiel tiptoed across the hall and pressed his ear to the wood. He couldn't hear anything more than whispers, but it was enough to confirm that the woman was in Dean's room.

Castiel swallowed heavily and crept back to bed. He slept fitfully and woke again just before dawn to the sound of Dean's door opening and closing again, the echo of two pairs of footsteps- one lighter and one heavier- fading down the hall.

Castiel rolled over and pressed his face into his pillow, trying to ignore the tightening in his gut.

 

* * *

 

At the end of the week, Castiel spent the day with his mother and Hannah in town with Balthazar. Balthazar showed them the room he had a rented, a small place at the edge of the market, above a tavern that spilled raucous laughter and drunken guests, even in the light of day.

Hannah sent a disapproving look at Balthazar, but he only smirked at her.

He took them around town, leading them through the market stalls where vendors sold food and fabrics and jewelry from brightly colored stalls. Anna stopped at a stall that sold make-up and spoke to the seller while Castiel followed Hannah further down to a store that sold weaponry. Hannah ducked inside, her attention sharp on the archery materials in the back.

Castiel stood in the opening of the tent and watched her test bows while the vendor offered advice. Balthazar came to stand next to him.

“Archery?” he asked.

“She went hunting with Dean and John again. John hunts with a gun, but Dean showed her how to hunt this way.”

Balthazar made a noise of acknowledgement, then went quiet. Castiel glanced at his brother to find Balthazar studying him, his features creased with a careful consideration he rarely wore.

“Are you coming home with me?” Balthazar asked.

Castiel blinked in surprise. “My plans haven’t changed. Why do you ask?”

“I thought you might be happy here, in the beginning, but recently…” Balthazar trailed off.

Castiel looked away, focused on Hannah as she inspected arrows. “I am happy here.”

“If this is your idea of happiness, Castiel, then I have failed as your brother.”

“Balthazar.”

“I’m just saying, Cas, that happiness should look less like indigestion and more like, well, happiness.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Castiel cut Balthazar off. 

Balthazar made a dismissive noise. “Who said anything about worry?”

As Hannah paid, Castiel sighed. “Thank you for your concern, but I am fine.”

Balthazar clucked his tongue. “You always are.”

Castiel turned to look at him, but Balthazar moved forward to meet Hannah and assist her with her purchase. Castiel watched his siblings, fondness warming him. His mother joined them, and Castiel accepted the weight of her bags. Balthazar offered her an arm. She accepted with a smile, and the four of them continued to wander the city, taken with the foreign sights.

 

* * *

 

The redhead sat at the table when they joined the Winchester-Campbells for dinner. Anna sat next to John and, as they often did, they talked together with low voices. Dean and Sam sat in their usual seats, the redhead next to Dean, her arm draped across the back of his chair. Hannah and Castiel sat across from them beside their mother.

"Cas, Hannah," Dean said. "This is Charlie. She helps us and a couple of others in the area with finances."

Charlie grinned and waved. Castiel and Hannah inclined their heads.

"Tough crowd," Charlie commented. She ran her gaze over Hannah, then turned her attention to Castiel, eyes narrowing slightly.

Castiel returned her attention, waiting patiently. When she said nothing, Castiel glanced at Dean, who raised his eyebrows in question, and then turned to his food. Beside him, Hannah cleared her throat.

"I thought Dean took care of the finances. I was under the impression he ran the household."

Dean shrugged. "I do the simple stuff, but Charlie manages the more complicated transactions related to the business and helps us invest."

"Invest?"

"Yeah," Charlie removed her arm from behind Dean and leaned forward onto her elbows. She launched into a complicated explanation that had Hannah nodding along. Castiel tuned it out.

"Hey, Cas," Dean said softly. Castiel looked up to find Dean leaning forward, eyes sharp on his face. "Didn't see you today."

Castiel nodded. "I went to visit Balthazar."

"Yeah? You said he runs your business, right? Maybe he should meet Charlie."

Castiel shrugged. "Maybe." 

He looked away from Dean. He let the conversation flow around him, only answering when he was directly spoken to. At the end of the evening, Hannah rose with him, catching him by the elbow.

"Castiel, will you join me for a walk?"

"Of course, Hannah."

She smiled and wrapped her arm around his. With a nod to everyone else, she led Castiel into the yard, taking him down the road.

They walked in silence, Hannah's eyes on the fields around them. The sky had shifted to a bruised purple that slowly darkened into navy. The moon hung low in the sky and stars dotted the black. Castiel kept his attention on the road, watching as it faded into shadow, only the distant lights of neighboring homes breaking the darkness of the surrounding land.

"Is everything okay, Castiel?" Hannah asked, finally breaking their silence.

He glanced at her. "Of course."

"You were very quiet at dinner. Dean seemed concerned."

Castiel flinched. 

Hannah frowned at him. "Did he do something?"

"No- why would-"

Hannah smiled at him. "You've done nothing but follow him around and talk about him since we got here."

Castiel flushed. "I'm only interested in his magic. I sit with Sam as well."

Hannah's smile widened. She hugged his arm, dragging him a few steps closer. "I'm glad you have found friends here, Castiel. I was worried about you."

"Why?"

"You're always so alone, my brother. I am glad to see that if you stay here with Mother, you will not be."

"But what about you?"

Hannah poked him in the side. "See? If you were not so busy fawning, you would know that I have been into town and do work part-time."

Castiel's mouth dropped. "You didn't tell me."

Hannah shrugged. She tugged on Castiel's arm to goad him into walking again. "It has only been a few weeks. I was going to tell you when we had time to ourselves with the next hunt."

"Ah." Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. "Is it a teaching job?"

"Of a sort. I'm a guest speaker on cultures."

"Appropriate."

Hannah huffed a small laugh.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Of course. The students are younger than I worked with at home, but they are very curious. It's been good."

"Tell me about it?" 

Hannah tipped her head to the side as she smiled at him. They walked a little further, Hannah speaking of her students and their curiosity. Castiel listened, his heart light for the first time that day. When they returned, Castiel held tightly to that feeling, even when he saw Dean and Charlie sitting in the garden, knee to knee, Dean's head tipped back in laughter.

 

* * *

 

Castiel was in the middle of a letter to Balthazar when a knock sounded on his door. He rose to find Dean on the other side, hands curled nervously in the edge of his tunic.

"Hey," Dean greeted, smiling as he studied Castiel's face, eyes flicking between his.

Castiel tipped his head in greeting.

"I was... um, would you like to sit in the garden with me? Thought I could show you some of the other stuff I do with magic."

Castiel opened his mouth to agree, but hesitated. He swallowed heavily. "I thought you were with Charlie."

Dean's mouth tipped up slightly. "She had to head home. Her wife sent a message saying she was needed."

Castiel lowered his eyes for a moment. He looked up to meet Dean's gaze and nodded. Dean grinned widely and stepped back so Castiel could leave his room. He closed his bedroom door behind him and followed Dean to the garden, where Dean showed him ways to coax flowers into blooming and how to lure birds into the little garden to spread seed. Castiel cradled the round body of a nightjar in his palm and smiled at Dean. He stepped close to Castiel, hands cupping his, and smiled back.

 

* * *

 

"I dreamed of her once," Anna said, drawing Dean from his memories. He turned to find her standing next to him, head tilted back to look up at the painting they stood before.

After the garden, Dean's favorite room in the house was the formal dining room. At the end of the long table, past the chairs and serving carts that sat unused, the far wall was dominated with a painting framed with gilt wood. In it, Mary sat in a chair with a low back, a baby cradled in her lap. She held him close to her with one hand. Her other hand curled around the shoulder of a young boy, who clutched at Mary's white dress. Both boys smiled widely, Mary's own mouth curled up with amusement. Behind them John stood, face serious, but his hand rested on Mary's shoulder, fingers curled into the fabric, the tips of the fingers of his other hand brushing Dean's shoulder.

"I was pregnant with Castiel at the time, and I dreamed of a woman with blonde hair who was very afraid, her baby ready to be born. You would have been her first."

They stood together in silence.

"I always thought I would be here," she said. "That I would come here one day."

Dean frowned at her. "My mother didn't die-"

Anna turned to him, catching his hand. She shook her head. "No, Dean. No, I meant that I always thought I would meet her." She continued to hold Dean's hand as she turned back to the painting. She sighed softly. "I wanted to meet her."

Dean relaxed and looked up at the painting.

"What was the dream about?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"I didn't know at first that I was dreaming. The house we lived in at the time- there was a field behind it. It was only grass, nothing like the fields of flowers you have here. But the grass was tall, as tall as my waist. I liked to wander through it. Hear the wind, be alone. I thought I was walking through it, but it got very dark very quickly and I realized that- I knew I was dreaming then.

"I heard crying. A woman sobbing. She was very far away from me, but very close at the same time. I started looking for her." Anna paused. She let go of Dean's hand and stepped forward to rest her fingers against the frame. "I looked for a long time, until the grass died and I was standing on soil. It was rich soil, dark and wet. I could feel the life in it.

"Your mother was sitting in the center of the soil in a white nightgown. She sat in a pool of blood. At first I thought she'd been hurt but when she stood I could see that it was child's blood. I pulled her into a hug because she was so afraid. It's always hard, no matter how many children you have, but the first... the first is different. It's new.

"Flowers grew up around us. First it was just a green bush, spreading in a circle around our feet. The leaves broad and flat. Then flowers bloomed- small, yellow ones. I looked later and found out they were Celandines."

"Joys to come," Dean said when she paused.

Anna squeezed his hand and smiled at him. "I told her that- in the dream. I hugged her and felt you kick against my stomach and I told her that she would find great joy in you."

Dean ducked his head, embarrassed, his face burning with it. Anna said nothing more and Dean looked up again to see his mother smiling down from the painting, her two sons held close to her. Dean's heart ached and he drew in a shaky breath. He still felt her loss after all this time, but he thought of Celandines growing in fertile soil. He glanced at Anna to see she still studied the painting.

"I wish you could have met her," Dean said.

Anna smiled sadly. 

 

* * *

 

       
_Portraits of Anna Elliff and Mary Winchester-Campbell by Aceriee_

 

* * *

 

Castiel touched his fingers to the glass of the lantern, closing his eyes to focus. He tried to remember the words he'd read or even to feel the current of magic as Sam had said he should be able to, but nothing came. Castiel sighed and dropped his hand. He opened his eyes to find Dean staring at him, mouth quirked up in amusement, arms folded over his chest. Castiel flushed.

"I know things are different where you're from, Cas, but generally fondling inanimate objects is frowned upon here."

Castiel glared. "I was trying to adjust the light."

Dean laughed. He dropped his arms and moved to stand beside Castiel. He muttered something under his breath and the light flared. Castiel frowned at the lantern.

"You don't really need the words," Dean said. "I like them because they help me focus on what I'm doing, but most people just-" Dean waved his hand.

"I don't know _what_ I'm doing though."

"Just think about it," Dean said. "You have to have the intent more than anything."

Castiel frowned. He turned his attention to the lantern and focused on it. Intent. His intent was to turn the lantern off. To decrease the amount of light coming out of it so that it wouldn't burn so bright. He tried to focus on his intentions, but was interrupted by Dean's laugh.

"You're thinkin' too hard, buddy," Dean said. "Just- what do you want?"

"To dim the light."

"Okay."

Dean grabbed his hands and pressed them to the glass of the lantern, flattening his hands over Castiel's. Castiel looked at him, watching the way Dean's face eased out of a scowl, eyes closing.

"Dim the light, Cas."

Castiel looked at his hands, at the contrast of his skin against Dean's. Dean's hands were calloused from work. Castiel had callouses from his training, but they were specific, earned through repetition and not use. Castiel shifted on his feet, swaying closer to Dean. He looked up; the light flared across Dean's skin this close, washing out his color. For a moment, all Castiel really wanted was to see Dean.

The light dimmed.

Dean's eyes opened and he grinned at Castiel, blinking as he realized how close they were. He released Castiel's hands and stepped away.

"See, Cas. Intent. You wanted lower light, you got it." He clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "Keep it up." He spun and exited the garden, leaving Castiel alone. He turned back to the lamp.

Intent, Dean had said, but consequence was what had worked for Castiel. He wondered if that had any meaning with this foreign magic he barely knew.


	4. Falling Apart

"It's tradition," Sam explained as he spread a map across the table, "for weddings to take place in a flowered field."

"Flowers are very important to you," Hannah said.

Sam nodded. "They all have meaning, and we use them to express good wishes, hopes, feelings."

"But it doesn't have any true effect." Balthazar leaned his elbow on the table, pushing at the corner of the map with a finger. He frowned at it.

"Well, that depends." Sam sat back and cleared his throat. "Practically speaking, no, but mindset is very important. Being positive-"

"Sammy," Dean cut in. "No philosophy. We just need to pick a field. There's only four months left to the wedding."

"Yes, we are already behind in preparations." Anna smiled at Sam. "I let myself get carried away with exploring a new place."

Sam smiled back. "That's good, though. Have you found any place you liked?"

Anna and her daughter leaned forward over the map. Anna traced a finger along the road from the house where it sat in the middle. "Here." She tapped. "Hannah and I both liked here. It was surrounded by trees and it's flat."

Hannah leaned back and nodded agreement.

Sam made a note. "I think that's doable. Our neighbor owns it-"

"I didn't realize," Anna said. "There's no fence."

"Bobby's not-" Dean huffed a laugh. "Bobby's not a neighbor so much as a family friend. We don't have a fence because there's no need."

"He's very kind," Castiel added.

Dean and Sam looked at him with surprise.

"You met him?" Sam asked over Dean's incredulous, " _Bobby?_ Nice?"

Castiel glanced between them and nodded. He looked to Sam to answer, "Yes, in town the other week. I think that field would be lovely. Do many flowers grow there?"

"Yeah, all kinds," Sam answered. "Bobby grows flowers for gardens and for spells."

"Is it safe?" Hannah asked.

"Ingredients aren't dangerous any more than they are soup." Sam smiled at her.

Dean chuckled. "Now you sound like Bobby."

"Ah, yes," Balthazar broke in. “The soup that is my mother’s wedding. What an appropriate comparison.” He stood up and leaned over to kiss his mother's forehead despite her glare. "I have business,” he deflected. “But I think it will be a fine location to boil everyone together."

Anna shook her head, a small smile breaking through her exasperation. "Thank you, Balthazar." She turned to Dean and Sam as he left. "Will that work?"

"Yup," Dean agreed. "Now we just have a million other choices to make."

Anna laughed, head tossed back, the sound light and airy before it dissolved into a cough. Hannah rubbed a hand across her mother's back. Anna caught her breath and sat back, her face pale and drawn, but only for a moment. She straightened up, patting Hannah's leg.

"Let us continue to the second, then," she said to Dean.

 

* * *

 

Bobby and Ellen welcomed the Elliffs into their home easily; Jo welcomed them with suspicion. Dean introduced Castiel, a hand on his shoulder, and Jo watched him with narrowed eyes. Dean's hand remained even as he turned his attention to Hannah to introduce her. Ellen led them into the tavern attached to their home, the building empty so early in the day.

John helped Anna onto the bench that ran the length of the main table. Ellen set a mug of water before her and Anna smiled gratefully; the walk had winded her and her breath rasped loudly in her chest. Hannah and Castiel sat on either side of her, while Sam and Dean sat across from them with Ellen and Jo, who sat beside Dean frowning lightly.

Bobby and John dismissed themselves from the wedding discussion, Ellen shaking her head after them.

"Dean and Sam assure me it would be of no issue to use your field for our wedding," Anna spoke first.

Ellen smiled. "Course not. If you're interested in a party after, we could even do one here."

"Party?" Hannah asked.

Sam nodded. "Traditionally we have a smaller ceremony with only family involved and then a large party afterward to which everyone is invited."

"Oh. We tend to the opposite," Anna answered. She curled her hands around her mug, fingers tapping at the ceramic. "Everyone is involved in the wedding and then there's a small dinner for the family to say goodbye since the couple separates into a new family."

"Do you want to do that?" Sam asked.

Anna considered, her mouth pursed in thought. "My children are the only family I would have a private dinner with," she said slowly, "and since John is not expecting such a... tradition, I think perhaps not. There are not many people I would need to invite to the ceremony; just my brothers." She paused for a moment, then, glancing between Dean and Sam, asked, "Perhaps we could have a slightly larger ceremony and then the party?"

Sam glanced at Dean and shrugged. "That's fine by us. I know Dad doesn't have any preferences in regards to the wedding traditions."

Dean smirked slightly at that, dropping his head to hide it. He felt Castiel's gaze and glanced up to see the man watching him, head tipped to the side slightly. Dean raised an eyebrow. Castiel flushed, looking away.

"Well, my offer still stands," Ellen said. "If you'd like to have the party here."

Anna smiled widely. "Thank you, Ellen. I would be honored."

 

* * *

 

They stayed for dinner, eating at the tavern as it slowly filled with local farmers and people from the city looking for a smaller, homier place to spend their evenings. John joined them, sitting beside Anna and talking with her about the plans made that day, heads ducked close as they spoke softly to each other. Sam, Dean, and Jo sat with Hannah and Castiel, introducing them to the locals who stopped by in greeting.

A small group of Sam's friends from the city showed up bearing instruments and set up in the corner of the room. Jo dragged Dean into the center of the room, shoving aside empty tables. Those who sat at the filled tables caught on when Jo swung Dean around in a dance, their hands joined, Jo laughing, her blonde hair arcing through the air. Soon enough, a space for dancing had been cleared and other couples joined them on the floor. The tavern filled with music and laughter above the chatting of diners.

Castiel sat at the table beside his mother and watched. She hummed along with the music and tapped her foot until John rose and offered his hand. He led her onto the floor and the two came together in a sedate dance until the music picked up. Dean stepped in to lead her across the floor in a twirling dance that had them stumbling over each other. Sam cut in when the music changed again.

Hannah sat with Castiel until a dark haired man asked her to dance. She accepted, her cheeks turning visibly pink even in the dim light. Castiel shared a smile with his mother as she caught sight of Hannah joining the crowd on the dance floor.

Dean took Anna back from Sam with a playful shove. Even from his seat, Castiel could see the way Anna's steps slowed as she danced with Dean, her chest heaving, but she accepted another dance with John instead of sitting. Hannah and her partner stayed close, Hannah's eyes on her mother more than him. Dean danced with a young man Castiel did not know, and he swallowed hard against the bitterness that rose in his throat, eyes caught on the clench of their hands, the press of their bodies, Dean's delighted face tipped toward his partner.

Anna stumbled against John's body. He caught her against his chest, but Hannah abandoned her partner to check on her. Castiel rose, watching nervously as Hannah and John led Anna to the table where she sat hunched over, coughs racking her body. John left to get more water, while Hannah curled her arm over Anna's back and Castiel held her hand and encouraged her to breathe.

By the time John returned, Anna's breathing had slowed, her cough easing. She accepted the mug with a softly murmured thank you and took a sip. Anna caught her breath, hand pressed to her chest, and spent the rest of the night at the edge of her seat, clapping to the music. Castiel sat beside her, his attention torn between the whistle of his mother's breathing and Dean's lean form spinning unknown partners across the floor.

The next day Anna stayed in bed. Sam sent a healer to her, one of the new ones with blonde hair tied back to hang in ringlets against her shoulders. Sam introduced her as Jessica. She smiled at Sam before shooing him from the room and spent the morning with Anna.

"It's something in the chest," she told Sam and Castiel when she emerged from the room. "More than a cold, but there's no liquid in the lungs, not yet."

"Will she be okay?" Castiel asked.

Jessica nodded. "We have some potions and I can put together a spell that will boost the body if you are willing."

Castiel frowned, but Sam caught him by the arm to pull him a few steps away. "It's good medicine, Cas. I can put it together myself if it would make you feel better."

He turned to find Jessica watching them with a small frown. "Your magic is still very..."

"Unfamiliar, I know, but it's part of our lives. We trust it."

Castiel looked at Sam. His face was earnest and he widened his eyes slightly in pleading. 

"Even things you trust can hurt you, Sam."

Sam blinked, his head jerking back slightly, the softness falling away. He opened his mouth to respond, but Castiel cut him off.

"Do what you can for her."

Castiel left them in the hallway to join Hannah as she sat with their mother.

 

* * *

 

Balthazar sniffed the potion, glaring with disgust at the viscous fluid. "I should send for one of our healers."

Anna sighed and took the mug back from him. "You will not, Balthazar. Their medicine is fine- just different."

Balthazar sat down at the small table in his mother's room. She still wore her night shift, a robe pulled on over it and tied closed. Her face was drawn and pale. She stilled at Hannah's chiding command and let Hannah continue to braid her hair. Hannah had had to help her bathe this morning, and Castiel could see worry in the tightness of Hannah’s mouth and the lines around her eyes.

"It's been a month," Hannah objected as she slid her fingers through Anna's red hair, twisting the strands into place. "Perhaps Balthazar is not wrong this time."

Balthazar shot her a wounded look, but Anna only shook her head.

"There is no need. They are looking out for me. Besides, we still have a wedding to plan."

"What's left?" Castiel asked, earning a smile from her even as Balthazar sighed in irritation.

"John and I have discussed the ceremony already," Anna answered. "John has agreed to let someone officiate and has sent a request to the Witches Temple for one of their Priestesses."

Castiel frowned, seeing Hannah do the same. Balthazar made a disgusted noise. "Is that really necessary?" he asked.

Anna frowned at him. Behind her, Hannah tied off Anna's braid and patted her shoulder. Anna twisted her head to thank her daughter with a smile before she returned her attention to Balthazar.

"They are the ones that approached me to begin with. I have no problem with them."

Balthazar narrowed his eyes, his expression going tight, but he gave in with a shake of his head.

"Dean mentioned that you would be given a flower," Castiel questioned.

Anna smiled. "Yes. John said that I am not to know it until the ceremony."

"Ah."

"It sounds like the ceremony is mostly taken care of," Hannah commented.

Anna nodded. "The only thing that remains is to write vows."

"Write vows?" Balthazar sent her a questioning look.

"They write their own here. I rather like the idea."

"I suppose," Balthazar allowed. "But what do you say about an arranged marriage?"

"Even arranged, I still plan to support my husband." Anna raised an eyebrow at Balthazar in challenge.

He sighed, noisy with exaggeration. "Loyalty, Mother?" he chided, eyes gleaming with amusement. "One would think that meant something to you."

Anna laughed, head thrown back. Her children smiled; it had been months since they'd heard the sound last. Their joy gave way quickly to concern as Anna's laughter dissolved to coughing. She curled in on herself, a hand over her mouth, the other pressed to her chest, her body shuddering as she gasped for breath.

 

* * *

 

Dean was not in the kitchen, nor in the office he shared with his father. Castiel frowned and headed for the library but it, too, was empty, leaving Castiel frustrated. He knew John was gone for the day, but he had not expected both Sam and Dean to be gone as well. He made his way to his mother's room where Hannah curled on the bed next to her, reading from a book found in the Winchester-Campbell library and not one they'd brought from home.

Hannah looked up, but Anna lay still, her chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. Castiel stepped closer to see she was asleep.

"How is she?" he asked quietly.

Hannah shrugged. "Did you find Dean?"

Castiel shook his head. "Nor Sam." He glowered, but Hannah's face lightened.

"Sam said he would be in the infirmary. He had a thought he wanted to run by Jessica."

"Oh." Castiel turned to go, but stopped in the doorway, turning around again. "Do you need anything?"

Hannah frowned. "Some food to be brought here. Food for Mother, too. I've been going to get it."

Castiel nodded. "I will have it sent up."

He stopped at the kitchens first, finding a servant who frowned in thought at his request before nodding and promising to take care of it. Castiel hesitated, but chose to trust her; he'd seen Dean speaking with her more often than the others and she seemed to be in charge when he was gone.

Sam was in the infirmary when Castiel arrived, huddled in the back by the desks with Jessica. They stood side-by-side, shoulders touching, heads bent low. Sam scribbled down notes, nodding in response to Jessica's words, inaudible from this distance.

Castiel crossed the small room, ignoring the few servants tucked into the beds. He waited in front of the desk until Sam lifted his head to acknowledge Castiel.

"Hey, Cas.”

Castiel tipped his head. "I've been looking for Dean."

Sam's expression darkened slightly, his mouth curling down into a frown before he caught himself and forced a neutral expression. "He's not here."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Where is he?"

"He had some business to attend to, but he'll be back in a few days."

"I see." Castiel stared at Sam for a moment, and Sam stared back, but his expression did not change and he offered no further details.

Castiel left. His stomach tightened with irritation, but his heart pounded with something like fear.

 

* * *

 

"Sam has agreed to let me bring one of our own healers here," Balthazar announced as he pushed into Castiel's room without knocking.

Castiel and Hannah looked up at him.

"Dean agreed to this?" Castiel asked, surprised. Dean was private enough that letting a stranger live in his home would be met with resistance. Hannah frowned at him and Balthazar rolled his eyes.

"Dean is not of my concern," Balthazar said with a sneer. "He's been gone for nearly two weeks and I have no patience for someone who would leave our mother when she was sick like this."

"Sam has been of a great help, Castiel," Hannah added. "I would think he would be the best person to consult in this matter."

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement. He swallowed past the unease in his throat and focused on Balthazar. "When do they arrive?"

Balthazar shrugged, his shoulders relaxing at Castiel's agreement. "A few weeks I would expect. I sent off a message this morning."

"I'll speak to Dean about setting up a room."

"I already spoke to Sam since Dean is not around. He said he would get a servant on it."

"Ah."

" _Ah,_ " Balthazar mocked. "I've also requested for them to bring any medical books that might help with diagnosis. Sam and Jessica said they would be willing to study them and see if anything can be cross referenced."

"That's a good idea," Hannah commented.

"Sam suggested it." Balthazar shot a pointed glance at Castiel. "I need to return to town. I have a few things I am going to follow up for the business, but I will be back in time for dinner."

Hannah stood. "Of course. Let me walk you out."

Castiel sat for a moment longer, frustrated by Balthazar and Anna's dismissal of Dean. He knew Dean was kinder than that, that he also knew what the loss of a mother was like. Dean would not abandon Anna to her fate. He was less certain about John, not after hearing the fights he had with Dean. Castiel knew the man was not emotionally invested in the partnership; he had only agreed to it because of his family's belief in the Witches- which was another concern. Their request for a Priestess had never been answered. Given what Sam and Dean had told him about their precognitive abilities, Castiel couldn't help but to think it had been purposeful.

The thought of the Witches' foreknowing reminded Castiel of his own mother's skill. Hers was simpler, coming mostly in dreams that she rarely understood the meaning of. Castiel rose to walk the halls to her room, wondering if she'd dreamed of this, of the way her body abandoned her, first her lungs, then her appetite, and more recently her strength.

The door to Anna's room was opened partially, and Castiel found a nurse leaning over the bed, her fingers pressed to Anna's wrist, her eyes on a small timepiece. She mouthed numbers to herself. Anna watched her, eyes lidded, but her attention shifted to Castiel where he stood in the doorway.

She smiled at him, and when the nurse let go of her wrist to notate the pulse she'd taken, Anna beckoned him over. Castiel sat at the edge of her bed and held her hand, watching the nurse finish her notes.

"You're doing very well today, but please continue to rest. I will let Jessica know."

"Thank you, Alice."

Anna waited until Alice had left the room, pulling the door closed behind her, before she leaned forward to cup Castiel's cheek.

"Are you alright?" she asked, eyes kind.

Castiel ducked his head. "I am... frustrated."

"With?"

Castiel shook his head. "It doesn't matter." It didn't. Dean did not owe him anything. He could not expect anything of him either. He forced his feelings aside and smiled at his mother.

"It's good to hear them say you are doing better."

Anna sighed and leaned back. She spared a chastising look for his silence before allowing the change of subject. "I feel better today. I have asked if there's any way to go outside."

Castiel frowned. "The nurse- Alice-"

"I know," Anna cut him off. "I had just hoped."

Castiel patted her hand where it still curled around his. "I will see what I can do. Even if they won't let you outside, perhaps to the garden."

Anna smiled widely. "I think I would like that."

 

* * *

 

The healer arrived two weeks later, surprising Castiel with his presence as he sat with his mother while she ate her breakfast. The healer knocked on the door, then pushed it open carefully. A bag heavy with supplies appeared first, and Castiel rose to assist. When the healer followed, his face creased with a thankful smile, Castiel blinked in surprise.

"Inias?"

Castiel set the bag down and turned to him. Inias' smile shifted to genuine delight.

"Castiel, hello!" He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Castiel. Castiel returned the embrace before stepping back.

"What are you doing here?"

"I volunteered, after we received Balthazar's letter." Inias turned to Anna where she watched with amusement. "Hello, Anna."

"Inias," she greeted, tipping her head. "It's been a long time."

He nodded. "I went into service as a healer almost immediately after returning." Inias glanced at Castiel. "It's been a complicated journey."

"I can imagine," Castiel said. He smiled at Inias in sympathy. Inias returned it and then turned to Anna.

"Balthazar outlined some of the issue in his letter, but I'd like to hear everything from you."

Inias dragged a chair over to sit by the bed, nodding as Anna detailed the first breathless times that led to coughing fits, the fatigue, her lack of appetite, her exhaustion, the weight loss. Inias looked down to the food in her hands.

"Is your appetite better?" he asked, pointing to where she'd eaten nearly half the bowl of porridge.

Anna shrugged. "They've been tailoring my meals," she said. She offered the bowl to Inias, who took it and lifted the spoon to his mouth. "Sam said it's flavored with herbs that are supposed to entice appetite and they've also been adding health potions to it."

Inias hummed thoughtfully as he worked the taste of porridge in his mouth. "It's good," he commented. "I will visit the kitchen and speak to the healer in charge of your case."

"Jessica," Castiel said.

"Jessica," Inias repeated with a nod of his head. He handed the bowl back to Anna and opened his bag of supplies. "I will begin working with her. In the meantime, let's start you on some of this. It will help with the appetite and energy loss."

He handed Anna a pill and she swallowed it with water. Castiel stood with Inias and offered to show him the kitchen. Inias accepted and waited in the hallway while Castiel leaned over to hug his mother.

"Are you done? I can take it with me."

Anna smiled with a small sigh. "Please. I think I'm going to nap."

Castiel refilled her mug with water before gathering her bowl. She was already asleep by the time he pulled her door closed.

He led Inias to the kitchen, handing his mother's empty dishes off to a young girl. Pamela turned from where she was guiding a boy in how to prepare bread and smiled at him.

"Pamela, this is Inias. He's our healer."

"I wanted to discuss Anna's meals," Inias added.

"Of course. Just a moment." She turned back to the boy and spoke to him quietly before returning to them. She led them to a small table, offering mugs of wine and a plate of cheese and fruit.

"The potions are from Sam and Jessica," she told Inias, and Castiel warmed at the concern of his friends. "The changes to her meals were requested by Dean. He remembered how well they helped with his mother when she was sick."

Castiel blinked in surprise, his attention taken from Inias and Pamela's discussion. _Dean_ had requested the changes for his mother. Dean- who had been gone for so long, whom Castiel has not seen in the last few weeks, always gone, just like his father. Castiel had asked Sam about it, but Sam had put him off, saying Dean was working. Castiel had felt bitter- angry- annoyed that such a kind man would disappear and leave him alone, would let his mother suffer when he-

When he knew.

Castiel's heart pounded in his chest, He wanted to see Dean, to hold him. Longing tightened his chest and he tightened his grip on his mug, swallowing heavily. Guilt pooled under it, swamping his gut with nausea. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Thank you," Inias said, drawing Castiel out of himself. "Your information has been very helpful. Please continue as you have been and with the changes we've discussed."

Pamela nodded. "Sure thing." She accepted a small package from Inias and then left them alone.

Inias turned to him. "Will you take me to Sam or Jessica?"

Castiel nodded and stood. "They are likely together. They usually are."

He led Inias to the infirmary where Jessica was wrapping the arm of a girl Castiel recognized from Ellen's tavern. She handed her a small pot and explained the need to use the salve and how to best care for her apparent burns. At Jessica’s desk in the back of the infirmary, Sam sat studying books. He looked up as Castiel approached and circled around to offer his hand to Inias.

"You're the one Balthazar requested help from?" Sam asked.

Inias nodded. "Yes. I've already spoken with Anna and Pamela about her meals, but I wanted to speak with you and Jessica about what else you've done for Anna."

"Yeah, of course. Jess would be better to speak with for the medical stuff, but I can answer questions about the spells."

Inias flinched, but before he could speak, Jessica interrupted to introduce herself. The discussion between the three of them quickly evolved over Castiel's understanding and he excused himself after some hesitation. He would speak to Sam later.

 

* * *

 

Anna joined them for dinner, the first time in weeks. Inias ate with them, as did Balthazar. Sam watched, his expression hiding a frown as Castiel and Inias spoke of their time together in the army. Both Hannah and Balthazar listened raptly; Castiel had spoken little about his time serving. Anna laughed with them all at the stories they told, coughing only once or twice, both Sam and Inias calming her down.

After dinner, Hannah and Inias helped Anna back to her room. Balthazar left for town again, business from the day unfinished. Castiel took the chance and held Sam back from going up to his room.

"Where's Dean?" Castiel asked.

Sam frowned at him. "He's travelling for business."

"What business?" Castiel pressed.

Sam shook his head. "Castiel- Cas- he's just-"

"I know about my mother's food," Castiel interrupted.

Sam sighed and sat back down at the table. "He didn't want you to know."

"Why?" Castiel sat beside him.

Sam shook his head. "My brother- he- Dean understands, okay? He understands what it's like to lose your mother to something so slow. He didn't want you or your brother or sister to worry about anything other than being there for her."

"So what is he doing?"

"Some of the ingredients for the potions and spells are hard to come by. Dean's been going to get them."

"I see." Castiel tightened his hands into fists. "When will he return?"

Sam sighed. "Don't be angry with him."

"I'm not. When will he return?"

"In a few days."

"Thank you, Sam." Castiel left, then, to join his sister and mother in Anna's room, his mind still on Dean.

 

* * *

 

Castiel found him in the garden, the lanterns almost off so that the light of the moon lay silver across the leaves and flowers. Dean sat in the grass before his mother's Gladiolus, head tipped back to stare up at the sky. Castiel stood silently behind him, looking up to see what Dean saw. Stars danced in the sky, dots of white and blue and yellow. The moon sat round and fat in the curve of the walls around them.

"What are you doin' here?" Dean asked, his voice low and slurred slightly.

Castiel looked down to see that Dean had a hand wrapped around a mug. He sat beside Dean and took it from him, drinking to find it was filled with mead- headier and harsher than what was brewed in his homeland. Castiel finished what was left and tucked the mug back into Dean's hand. Dean glared at him, but Castiel only stared back.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Castiel asked.

"Tell you what?" Dean frowned.

"You've been..." Castiel swallowed and looked away. "You've been helping- finding-"

Dean grunted. He shifted away from Castiel. Castiel curled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to him, to keep from twisting his fingers into Dean's shirt and pulling him close-

"Didn't think it'd matter much," Dean answered.

Castiel gaped at him. "How could it not?" He gave in and wrapped a hand around Dean's forearm. His fingers trailed down to Dean's wrist, curled against Dean's palm. Castiel blinked back tears. "You give so much but you hate that anyone knows. I _know_ , Dean. I want to know."

Dean looked at him, face open and hurt, eyes lost. "It doesn't matter," he repeated.

"It matters to me," Castiel promised, and leaned in to press his mouth to Dean's.

Dean sat unmoving, stone under Castiel's lips until he softened, until his mouth relaxed and opened to Castiel's. Dean turned his head and parted his lips, his free hand coming up to cup Castiel's face. His palm was rough, calloused, but his touch was gentle where his fingertips traced the line of Castiel’s jaw and curved around the back of his neck. Castiel clung to him. He parted his lips and accepted Dean's tongue. When Dean twisted closer, Castiel opened his arms and held him.

Dean broke the kiss, his forehead resting against Castiel's. "We shouldn't," he whispered.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. Dean's fingers ghosted along his cheek, over his lips, down the cleft of his chin. Castiel opened his eyes to find Dean staring at him, eyes a dark green, a hungry green. Castiel closed his eyes again and kissed him. He pushed and Dean fell back, carrying Castiel with him so that he lay over his body. Castiel folded his legs around Dean's waist and sat back. Dean stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth open as he panted for air.

"Do you care?" Castiel asked as he set his trembling hands against Dean's stomach.

"Maybe," Dean choked out. "No." He slid his hands up Castiel's thighs.

"I feel you sometimes," Castiel said. "In my chest. In my gut. And I want to own you, Dean."

Dean's breath shuddered out of him. His hold tightened against Castiel's legs. Castiel could feel Dean where he was hard against Castiel. He rocked back and Dean gasped. He thrust his hips up against Castiel once before he pushed down on Castiel's thighs with his hands, pinning Castiel against his lap.

"Here?" Dean asked.

Castiel nodded and slid his fingers to the ties of Dean's tunic, undoing them and letting the fabric fall open. Dean shifted up onto his hands, letting go of Castiel's legs, so that Castiel could push his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. Castiel slid his hands over the dips and curves of his muscles, fingertips digging in as he leaned forward to kiss Dean again. Dean braced himself on one hand, curling the other around Castiel's waist. Castiel cupped Dean's face, tilting his head as he opened his mouth, inviting Dean in. Dean's hand tightened against him and he sat up, pushing Castiel back. He broke the kiss, shifting back to sit on Dean's thighs. Dean met his gaze for a moment before his attention slid down Castiel's chest to where Dean's hands sat against his hips. Dean licked his lips as he slid his hands down and then up again, fingers disappearing under the hem of Castiel's top. Castiel held his breath, abdomen tensing; he waited for the first touch of skin on skin.

Castiel breathed out sharply as Dean flattened his palms against his back. He slid them over the muscles alongside Castiel's spine and tipped his head up so Castiel could kiss him. He leaned into it, thighs tightening around Dean's body, fingers digging into his shoulders. Dean broke the kiss to lean back slightly.

Dean's hands were warm and gentle as he guided Castiel's tunic over his head. He dropped it in the grass beside them before he slid his hands over Castiel's chest and stomach. Dean curved forward to rest his mouth against Castiel's collarbone. His hands settled on Castiel's hips before he smoothed them over Castiel's waist and around his back. Castiel tipped his head down to press a kiss into Dean's hair, his hands curved around Dean's shoulders. They sat for a moment, holding each other, until Dean shifted, his mouth opening hot against Castiel's skin. His teeth scraped across his collarbone, tongue following after. He sucked a kiss into the skin at the base of Castiel's neck, careful of pressure. Castiel tipped his head, biting his lip; he wanted Dean to mark him, but he couldn't ask. He couldn't even want this.

Castiel clutched at Dean's shoulders and breathed Dean's name into his hair. Dean nodded against Castiel's neck and fell back into the grass. Castiel followed easily, surrendering to Dean's touch. Dean moved against him, used his hands and his mouth to coax Castiel's body into singing, pleasure rolling through his veins, dizzying him with the feel of it, of _Dean_. Castiel gave back what he could, using his body to give Dean his love, to show him what Dean had become to him. Dean sighed Castiel's name into his shoulder, his body shuddering through his climax. Dean clung to him, his fingers leaving behind bruises, his words leaving behind promises as Castiel followed him.

Castiel woke, skin and cloak damp with pre-dawn dew. He sat up, his cloak sliding from his shoulders. Dean lay next to him, arm stretched out where it had been pillowing Castiel's head. Castiel's hand still rested on Dean's chest; he was reluctant to give up the touch, to lose this moment.

A bird sang in the distance and Castiel looked up to see that the sky was already beginning to lighten, a wash of red sunlight blooming across the deep blue of the sky. He drew away from Dean and stood over him. Dean shifted at the loss of warmth, his brow furrowing slightly, but he did not wake. Castiel found his shirt and draped it over Dean's body. He stood for a moment, eyes wandering over Dean's face, memorizing the lines and the shadows, the ease with which it relaxed in sleep, so unlike the harshness of worry and hardness when he was awake.

Castiel memorized the sight of Dean spread in the grass, and then he left.

 

* * *

 

  
_King of Hearts by Aceriee_


	5. Death & Birth

Dean sat at the back of the library, hidden in the shadows. He slouched in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. His chin rested against his chest and his eyes were closed. Balthazar sent him a dirty look, but Castiel knew he was awake. He remembered what Dean looked like in sleep, the way he'd been spread across the grass, legs and arms loose, shoulders relaxed, fingers twitching with his dreams. This Dean, this distant, separated Dean, was too still, too stiff.

Castiel turned away. Hannah sat next to him on the couch. Sam stood at the table, books spread across its surface.

"There's another spell, here," Sam said as he pointed. "It's simple enough, but the ingredients are more complicated."

"How complicated?" Balthazar asked.

Sam shook his head. "The only place that I know of to get some of this is at the Witches Temple."

"I will go then." Balthazar straightened.

Sam sighed. "You can't. You're an outsider; you won't even be let on Temple grounds."

"I'll do it," Dean said. Hannah and Balthazar startled, turning to face Dean where he was still slouched in his chair. "I'll go ask."

"I don't think that's wise either," Sam said. "The Witches aren't- they don't like men. You're about as masculine as the come."

Balthazar scoffed but Dean pushed himself out of the chair. "We gotta try. Out of them, Anna's the only one who would have a chance at making into the Temple, and you said she's too sick to move."

"I don't know." Sam frowned and shuffled books around on the table.

"Sam, you know as well as I do that the worst that can happen is they tell me no."

Sam looked up at Dean. He studied his brother's face, forehead wrinkled, mouth turned down. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, I'll make you a list."

"Why don't you go?" Hannah asked Sam.

Sam blushed and turned his face away, hands moving restlessly across the table. Dean threw his head back and laughed. Sam glared at the table.

"I'm not allowed," he finally admitted.

"The last time Sammy here went to the temple he managed to deflower one of the Witches' servants."

"I didn't know!" Sam defended. He looked up to glare at Dean, face bright red. "I wouldn't have if I'd known she-"

Balthazar broke through Sam's pained stuttering with a laugh. He reached across the table to clap Sam on the shoulder. "We've all been there," he appeased but Sam only grimaced. “Well, except for Castiel.”

Castiel sighed at his brother’s disappointed look. Dean snorted and pushed past Balthazar to leave the room. "Sam, get me the list. I'll go get ready."

"The Witches City is several days away," Sam explained as he grabbed a sheet of paper. "Dean will probably need a day or two to even get to see the Witches, and then who knows how long until they give him an answer."

Castiel frowned. "They wouldn't answer right away?"

Sam shrugged. He squinted at the book, then made a notation on his paper. "Sometimes yes, sometimes no. It's assumed that they take as long as they want to enforce the outcome that's desired. It's believed that the Witches know the future and can manipulate it."

Hannah shifted uncomfortably next to Castiel. "Knowing the future is impossible."

"Mother dreams," Castiel argued.

Hannah narrowed her eyes at him. "It's not the same. She can't see whole- she doesn't know events. She sees pieces, and she certainly can't manipulate anything."

"The whole thing's cracked regardless," Balthazar interrupted. He took the list from Sam and held it out to Castiel. "Dean is going and they will do what they will do. We will, in the meantime, continue doing what we can here."

Castiel accepted the list and followed Dean to his room where he found the door closed. He hesitated before he knocked, uncertain of his welcome. When Dean opened the door, Castiel found himself caught. Dean stared at him, eyes dark, expression withdrawn. Castiel stared at him until Dean sighed and rolled his eyes.

“What?”

Castiel held out the list. Dean looked down at it, then looked back up at Castiel. They stared at each other, Castiel at a loss for words, until Dean reached out and took the paper.

"Thanks," he muttered, peering down at it.

"When do you leave?" Castiel asked, stepping forward.

"Tomorrow morning." Dean shifted backwards and Castiel froze. He forced himself to nod.

"Have a safe journey then." Castiel turned and walked away.

"Cas-" Dean called after him, but Castiel ignored him, chest tight, limbs heavy. Bitterness burned the back of his throat. He'd known this was the way it would be, but it still hurt. Grief still crawled up his spine. Anger still churned through his veins. He'd _known_ and he'd still chosen the mistake. Castiel found himself standing in the doorway to the garden, numb to its beauty. He stared at the life inside, the green that spread across the ground and climbed the walls, the colors that bloomed in shadow and sun.

Castiel stepped back, away from smell of it, away from the feel of it, away from the memories. He turned and made his way to his mother's room.

Hannah stood by her bed, leaning over it to press a cold cloth to Anna's forehead. She smiled up at Hannah, eyes half closed, lips as pale as her skin, cheeks sunken. Grief shot through him, drowning out everything else. Anna turned to him, her smile widening. She held out a hand and Castiel obeyed without thought. He sat on the bed next to her, taking her hand in both of his.

"How are you, Castiel?" Anna asked.

"I'm fine," he answered.

Her smile softened and she squeezed his hand; she didn't believe him, but she didn't say so. "I hear that Dean is going to see the Witches?"

Castiel nodded. He turned away to accept the cup of water Hannah held. He lifted it to his mother's mouth and helped her drink. She sighed and relaxed against her pillows, eyes closing briefly.

"I wish I could go," Anna said. Her mouth curved up in a smile.

"Sam seems to think you're the only one of us they would accept," Hannah told her. She moved around the bed to crawl into it and sit next to their mother. 

Anna turned her head to grin at Hannah, her amusement the same as it had ever been even if the exhaustion that tinged it was new. "They don't like you?"

"We're outsiders," Castiel explained.

"Ah."

"They also don't like men," Hannah said. She raised her eyebrows at Anna, who laughed softly.

"Well, they are supposed to be wise."

"Hey," Castiel protested as his sister and mother laughed together.

Anna squeezed his hand. "Well, tell him I said good luck."

"If I see him," Castiel allowed. Anna shifted to look at him closer. Castiel looked down to study their hands together.

Anna sighed and said nothing. She freed her hand from his grip to pat his arm. "I'm going to sleep for a little bit," she told them. "Will you wake me for dinner?"

Hannah frowned but nodded. She leaned forward to press a kiss to Anna's cheek. "Good night, Mother."

Anna turned to cup her face. "Good night, my daughter." She smiled and kissed Hannah's forehead before she turned to hug Castiel, who leaned forward so she didn't have to move.

"Good night, my hope," Anna whispered to him. "It will be okay."

Castiel closed his eyes and held on tighter.

 

* * *

 

Dean rode out alone the next morning. Sam and John rose with him, but none of the Elliffs joined them. Dean felt a brief moment of relief knowing that he would not see Castiel, would not have to fake indifference in front of him, in front of his brother and father.

Sam made Dean show him the list of ingredients and then he gave Dean a hug, slapping him on the back. John gripped his shoulder.

"Be safe, Dean. Send us word if-" John cut himself off, but Dean nodded, understanding.

He hooked his foot into the stirrup and swung his leg over Clover's back. She shifted under his weight, white coat shining yellow in the early morning sunlight. He checked again for the list, then tugged on the reins to turn her around. She obeyed easily as he kicked her into a trot and they left his home behind.

Dean didn't look back. He focused on the road in front of him where it led him through the city and into the darkness of the forest canopy where he would ride for days, until the trees broke and a field spread across the earth before him.

He could smell the city before he saw it. It smelled like life and growth and blooming things. Like his garden in the spring as it began to wake, fresh sprouts pushing through damp earth, leaves unfurling in streaks of sunlight.

Dean slowed Clover to an easy walk and kept his attention on the crest in front of him. As they rode over it, the stretch of land gave way from rock and stone to dark dirt and green plants. Flowers bloomed along the main road, stretching out on either side in vast fields. The smell of it was heady. Dean's attention wandered, lulled by the overwhelming scents, memories of his mother, of Sam, of Castiel pulling at him, and it wasn't until he was passing through the gates of the city that he realized he'd arrived. 

Unlike the outside of the city, the inside was stark and bare of flowers or plants of any kind. The roads were hard-packed sand and white stone, bracketed by white-washed adobe buildings. There was no color in the buildings except for the brown of wooden doors and shutters.

Clover hesitated, ears and tail flicking wildly. She shifted under him, nervous, but he pushed her forward. The main road led straight to the Temple at the very back of the city. It stood thrice as tall as the buildings next to it, the sun reflecting off the white of its walls and the silver of its windows.

Dean passed no men in the city, only women in brightly colored robes. They paused in their work to watch him. Little girls sat at their feet, the most curious held back by their hands. At the courtyard outside the Temple, a woman in black approached him. He slid off Clover's back and dipped his head in a bow. A young girl in greens and blues took Clover's reins from him and led her away. Dean watched long enough to see her being taken to water where she dipped her head to drink greedily.

The woman in black touched his arm. "Can we help you?"

Dean turned to her, eyes taking in the dark hair that fell to her shoulders, the curve of her face.

"I need to see the Witches," he answered.

She pursed her lips. "For what purpose?"

"My- my father's fiancé- she's very sick and we don't know why. We're trying to help her but there are things we need- ingredients-"

The woman cut him off with a wave of her hand. "You think you are worthy of their help?"

Dean narrowed his eyes. "You aren't helping _me_. You're helping _her_. And she is."

The woman stared at him for a moment. Finally she sighed and turned her back on him. "Come with me," she ordered before striding away.

Dean followed as she led him around the side of the courtyard to a small building tucked against the walls. She opened the door and gestured for him to enter. Inside, he found a small table with a pitcher, a cup, and a bowl of fruit set on top. Two chairs bracketed the table.

"You may help yourself," the woman said before closing the door and leaving him alone.

Dean glanced around. Aside from the table and chairs, the only other amenity contained in the room was a small bathroom hidden behind a slender door. Dean sat at the table and picked through the fruit, finally settling on an apple with bright red skin. He bit into it, sighing at the sweet taste, before he peered into the pitcher to find water. It was clear and too cold, the temperature kept down by a spell on the pitcher; Dean could feel the magic resonate against his palm when he tested it.

Dean drank his fill and ate the apple while he waited. The room was quiet and well insulated. Though Dean had seen the traffic that would pass, he could hear none of it now. He set an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. He lost track of how long he waited, growing bored and pacing the room. He pushed open the door and let the sound of the street in, but he didn't leave. He used the bathroom and ate more fruit. He drank until the pitcher was empty, but the next time he looked into it, it had filled again.

Outside, the sun dipped low in the sky and the traffic that passed the open door slowed and then stopped. Dean watched the sky darken from the light blue of a Robin's egg to the dark indigo his mother had favored and then into the black of night broken by the flickering of stars. Dean stood in the doorway, head tilted back, and he let himself remember.

Just a few weeks ago, but it felt so much longer. Dean hadn't thought it would be so difficult to let someone go, especially when he'd never really had them to begin with, but letting Castiel go had proven near impossible. He could still feel the softness of Castiel's skin over the hard line of muscles formed with his training. Dean had come by his bulk through work and caring for his home, but Castiel... Castiel had trained. He'd been given a sword and shown how to use it. He'd been taught combat- hand to hand. Dean remembered the way they'd moved against each other; Dean had followed instinct and need, but Castiel had followed training. Like everything else about them, it had come together seamlessly.

Dean closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He stepped back into the room before he opened his eyes and pushed the door shut to block out the night sky. He sat back down at the table and emptied the basket of fruit onto it, organizing them by type and trying to remember the math games he and Sam used to play as kids, learning their numbers under their mother's gentle guidance.

By the time the woman came back, Dean had abandoned the math games and was balancing fruit into small towers. She watched, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Dean ignored her to dump the fruit back into the basket. "Will they see me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You can come back tomorrow."

Dean glared, his mouth pinched tight. He narrowed his eyes at her, but she stared at him, impassive except for the hardness of her gaze.

"She's dying," Dean said.

The woman turned her back on Dean. "They are aware of the request."

"They are the ones who wanted her to marry my father." Dean followed her from the small room to an inn that sat back in the city.

The woman sighed. "They are aware, Dean."

She left him there for the night. The owner of the inn, a small woman with dark cropped hair, kept his bowl and his mug full, telling him the Temple paid for it. They also paid for his room. Dean accepted the hospitality and ate.

Despite the stark whiteness of the city, the interior of the inn was warm and comforting. The walls were painted in dark hues: reds and oranges and browns. Woven panels hung from the ceiling, depicting scenes of magic, or wild creatures, or battles long past. The tables were filled with people dressed in colorful robes, heads ducked low as they talked amongst themselves. The room was filled with laughter and music from a musician in the corner. Dean lingered, eating slowly, watching the crowds change as people left and arrived.

Eventually weariness won out and Dean left his empty bowl on the table to escape to his room.

 

* * *

 

He waited three days in the small room. The pitcher only ever held water, and the bowl only ever held fruit. Dean ate breakfast and dinner at the inn, the only filling meals of the day. He slept heavily in the low bed in his room, but his unease grew the longer he waited. The woman- the same dark haired woman from the first day- ignored his inquiries.

When she showed up on the third day, halfway through the afternoon, Dean was startled. He rose to his feet, knife in hand, but she regarded him with disinterest. He sheathed his knife, feeling the heat of embarrassment in his cheeks.

"They will see you now," she said.

She led him into the Temple grounds where she had him wash. He stripped down to his top and pants. He was ordered to go barefoot, but she made no comment on his blade. He followed behind her, eyes darting around the empty halls, until she led him into a small room. 

The room was dim, only a few lanterns hanging low from the ceiling near the far end where the Witches sat. The walls were lined with hangings. The artist was the same as those that hung in the inn, and Dean's eyes were drawn to them. While the ones at the inn were varied in subject, these only depicted the Witches. In some they sat on high backed chairs or low diases or on rocks that overlooked a swollen river. In some they fought, blood dripping red into the fabric of the hanging. In others they gave birth or lay dying.

The woman led him the length of the room. She stopped before the Witches where they sat on a high-backed bench carved with arcane symbols.

"Dean Winchester-Campbell," the woman introduced.

"Thank you, Ruby." The Witch in the middle dismissed her. She bowed and left him standing alone. The door closed with a heavy thunk.

Dean waited silently before them. The one who had spoken sat upright, her spin stiff, her shoulders straight. Her dark hair was cropped and framed her face tightly. She was older than the other two and the only one to look at him without disdain. The yellow light of the lamps cast a gold glow to her skin and wrung a halo in her hair. She wore a simple tunic embroidered with a variety of flowers, her pants an earth brown.

The Witch to her left was pale, washed out, her red hair almost black where it was piled high on her head. She sneered at Dean, her lips blood red. She wore a black dress and leaned against the backrest of the bench, one hand braced on the armrest, nails tapping arhythmically against the curl of wood. She met Dean's eyes, disdain clear in her gaze.

The third Witch was also a redhead, hair curled into ringlets that fell loose around her shoulders. She lifted her chin against his gaze, her features sharp, the curl of the corner of her mouth disgusted. She too wore a dress, the fabric a deep red that shimmered when she moved. She sat stiff-backed and clucked her tongue when the others remained silent.

"This is pointless," she commented, her voice thick with accent. "We aren't going to help him." She raised an eyebrow to Dean's narrowed eyes.

"I agree," the second said. "We're wasting time with... this."

"I’m not asking you to help me," Dean said. "My stepmother needs helps."

"Does she?" The second rolled her eyes.

"Look, you're the ones who-"

"We know who she is. We know who you are," the first Witch interrupted him. "She's not your stepmother yet."

Dean met her gaze. "She's still family."

"This is a trait from your father. Always willing to die for a cause."

Dean frowned. "Family is everything," he answered, remembering too late that these women had left their families. They had killed and died to become who they were today, the first most recently. He pressed his lips together. The second scoffed at him.

"Abaddon, that's enough." The first frowned at her. Abaddon narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

"Linda, you aren't going to help this... this _child_ , are you?" the other asked.

Linda held his gaze. "If he proves he's worthy. We should let him try, Rowena."

Rowena gave a bitter laugh. "And how do we do that? He's not pure."

Dean flushed as Abaddon tossed her head back and laughed. Linda sighed. "There is more than one way to be pure. Your flower is the chrysanthemum, is it not?"

Dean tipped his head. "The red, yes."

"Love?" Rowena scoffed. She snapped her fingers and a servant appeared from the shadows with a tray bearing a goblet. Rowena took it, waving her hand to dismiss the servant. She regarded Dean for a moment before drinking. "Love is just as worthless as men are."

"You're a mother," Dean challenged; all three Witches were. "Don't you love your children?"

"Child. And, no, not really." She flicked at her skirt, mouth curling in disgust.

Linda sighed heavily. "This is a debate for another time. And irrelevant to our purpose here."

"Fine," Rowena agreed. She took a drink, her eyes steady on Dean over the rim of her goblet. She lowered it, licking her lips clear of wine, and tipped her chin back. "Why did your mother love you?"

Dean stared at her.

"If a mother should love her children, what makes you so worthy of it that you have a flower proclaiming it?"

Dean glanced at Linda and Abbadon, but they only stared at him, waiting for his response. He swallowed heavily, his hand falling to the blade on his hip, fingers twisting around the grip. Their eyes followed the movement, Abaddon's narrowing dangerously, her face growing sharp and hard. Dean thought of the ice of Castiel's eyes. He thought of the garden where they'd kissed and touched. Where his mother had given him the weapon under his fingers and made him promise to remember that it was only what he'd make of it. _Not war,_ she'd said to him, her voice fierce, the blonde of her hair almost white in early morning sun.

She'd died slow, like Anna currently was, her two sons in the bed with her, clinging to her because they were both too young to fully understand what it meant when each time she breathed out it came a little slower, a little longer, a little... less.

Dean had taken to picking her Gladiolus and bringing them with him. His father had chastised him for damaging the garden, but she'd patted the bed beside her and held the flower in her lap while she listened to him talk about his day. Sammy would pull the leaves off the stem, leave them strewn across the bed, crushed beneath their knees and their hands.

Dean could still picture her smile as she held it to her nose before she told Dean she loved it more than she'd loved the one the day before.

"Her flower is the Gladiolus," Dean answered. He looked up to meet Linda's eyes. "Strength of character. Honor. She loved Sam and I, not because we deserved it but because we were her children." He glanced at Rowena. "You don't do anything to deserve love. I don't love Sam because he deserves it; I love him because he's my brother and he has a good heart and a good soul. I hope my mother loved me because she saw the same."

"You don't know if you're good?" Linda challenged.

Dean looked away. His fingers clenched and unclenched around his knife. "I try."

"And fail, it sounds like," Abaddon commented, her eyes still sharp on the knife.

"We all do. Maybe I more than most, but I try."

Rowena clicked her tongue again.

"You call her your step mother, but she's not married to your father yet. Why do you care if she lives or dies?" Linda asked, leaning forward slightly.

Blue eyes flashed in Dean's mind. He thought of Castiel’s grief, of the way Hannah sat quietly brushing her mother’s hair, of the stiffness in Balthazar’s shoulders each time he left for the night. He thought of sitting with her in a quiet room before a painting of the woman she was meant to replace but never could. He remembered the way she’d held his hand and how he’d felt a mother’s love again in that moment.

“She doesn’t need to be married to my father to be family.”

"What's her flower?" Linda asked.

Dean hesitated. He didn't know if she had one, if John had helped her pick one or not. He thought about Castiel's cloak and the stitched almond blossoms. He opened his mouth to tell them that; not her flower, but her son's. He closed it again and thought about sitting with Anna beneath the painting of his mother in the formal dining room, a baby in her lap, Dean by her shoulder, John behind them all, the only one not smiling.

_I dreamed of her_

_blood and yellow flowers_

_love and joy and hope_

"Her flower is Celandine," Dean said.

"Joy."

Dean nodded.

Linda regarded him for a moment, then lifted a hand. The doors opened and Ruby put a hand to his arm and turned to lead him from the room.

"Wait- are you going-" Dean glanced back at the bench but it was empty, the Witches gone. Dean spun on Ruby. "Where are they? Are they going to help?"

Ruby shrugged. She left him standing there and he hurried after her.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

"Go back to the inn, Dean, and wait there. You'll have an answer when they are ready to give you one."

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Ruby turned her back on him and left him standing in the doorway to the courtyard. He slammed the door shut behind him and stormed to the cleaning area. An older woman, back hunched with age, washed her hands. She ignored him as he slung his cloak over his shoulders and shoved his feet into his boots.

The walk back to the inn was long and tiring, the white of the city overwhelming him till he could no longer see color.

 

* * *

 

Dean woke in the middle of the night to heavy pounding on his door. He crawled from his bed and opened it to find Ruby standing in the hallway, black jacket wrapped tight around her body.

"Abaddon has agreed to see your stepmother."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face. "I just needed ingredients."

"She can heal her," Ruby said before turning away.

"We're leaving now?" Dean stepped into the hallway.

Ruby paused at the stairs. "Yes, but if you don't come now, she won't go."

"Yeah, okay." Dean watched her disappear down the stairs, dark hair and clothes fading into shadow. His gut twinged nervously at him as he remembered Abaddon's disgust.

He wouldn't turn down the help; Anna's life was more important. Her children's happiness. Castiel's happiness.

 

* * *

 

Abaddon refused to speak to him so they made the journey in silence. Dean gave Clover her head most of the trip and focused only on keeping his thoughts away from Castiel. At night, bedded down in a clearing or amongst the roots of a tree or in a field of flowers, Dean would lie on his back and rest his knife on his stomach and think of anything else. 

He would shift and in the dark of the night, he would find the preternatural glow of Abaddon's skin, her narrow-eyed scowl focused on his hands, on the blade of bone. He rolled over, his hand curled around the grip, the blade under his pillow, clutching it till his fingers went numb.

 

* * *

 

They arrived late in the night nearly four days later. Dean led Abaddon into the house, taking her to the guest hall. Sam met him there, a plate of food and a pitcher of wine ready. Abaddon stood in the hallway, her cloak over her shoulders. She looked down the hallway, hands hidden underneath.

"Where is your stepmother?"

Sam glanced at Dean. "She's the next door over," he answered.

Abaddon narrowed her eyes at Sam. He held his ground.

"She's been mostly sleeping the last couple of days."

"Thanks, Sam." Dean accepted the food from Sam and led Abaddon into her room. She let him enter, following after and standing across the room from him, eyes sharp on him. "I'll get you in the morning once Anna's awake."

"Fine." She watched him set the food down on a side table and let him close the door behind him without comment. 

Dean hesitated in the hallway, but in the end silence was the only thing to be found.

 

* * *

 

In the morning, Abaddon's room was empty. Her bed was made, the food from their arrival untouched. Dean closed the door and moved down the hall to knock on Anna's door. Silence greeted him.

Dean considered entering regardless, but chose not to; his morning chores waited for him and Anna’s breakfast was to be delivered anyway. As he turned, something crashed in her room.

"Anna?"

He knocked on the door again. He tried the handle, but it was locked. Dean frowned and tried again. Anna kept the door open; both Castiel and Hannah would check on her in the night.

Dean stepped back and kicked the door. It rattled under the force of his boot. He kicked it again until the lock gave away, the door slamming open against the wall. On the bed Abaddon crouched over Anna, her back curved, her hair wild. Dean saw a flash of her face, eyes black, slitted with rage, before she turned away again. Dean lunged for her. He wrapped his arm around her neck and braced his feet against the floor to haul her off. She remained immobile, twisting to brace a hand against his chest and push him off. Dean crashed against the wall, landing in the debris of the side table where it had fallen over, Anna's medicines spread across the floor, the pills of her people’s medicine dissolving in Sam’s carefully made potions.

Dean gasped in pain, curling over and coughing until he could breathe again. On the bed, Anna thrashed, hands scrabbling against Abaddon's arms and shoulders. Dean's fingers found his blade, wrapping around the hilt, sliding into place against the leather, where it was worn down and curved to grip. He lunged for Abaddon again, blade held high. She let go of Anna, spinning to catch him as he crashed into her, knocking her off Anna's body. Anna's gasping breaths echoed in Dean's ears as he struggled against Abaddon. She dug her nails into his neck, her other hand locked around his wrist. Dean struggled against her hold until Anna rolled into them, her arms wrapping around Abaddon's. She pulled and Abaddon's grip slipped. Dean jerked his arm and slammed the blade into her chest. She screamed and reared back. Blood poured from the wound, spilling across Dean's arms and face, poured across Anna where she lay gasping against Dean's shoulder.

Abaddon struggled from the bed and collapsed on the floor. Against his shoulder, Anna choked, her hands scrabbling into his clothes, scratching at her neck. Dean rolled her over onto her back. Anna clawed at her throat, blood red against her skin, over her mouth, streaks of it up her arms, her dress soaking with it. Dean cupped her face, shouting her name.

"Dean! What-"

Sam stood in the doorway, eyes wide. Beneath him, Anna's eyes rolled up and her body convulsed.

"She needs help! Sam!"

Sam knelt on the bed and curled Anna onto her side. "Get the healers."

Dean ran, feet slipping in blood, until he reached the infirmary. Healers followed him, shouting questions he couldn’t breathe to answer. He passed Castiel and Hannah, their faces stunned. Castiel called after him, but Dean ignored him. He led them to Anna's room and the healers swarmed the bed. Sam backed off and stood by Dean.

"What's going on?" Castiel shoved past Dean, Hannah on his heels. Dean grabbed Castiel and pulled him back, trapping him against his chest. Sam grabbed Hannah to keep her out of the way.

"Abaddon attacked her. I heard them fighting and tried to stop it."

"She was convulsing," Sam added, "but she stopped. They'll get her stable and try to figure out what happened."

"Abaddon?"

"The Witch."

Castiel turned to stare at Dean. "She was supposed to help."

"I don't know, Cas. I don't know."

Castiel jerked his arm free of Dean's hold and crossed the room to where Abaddon laid on the floor. He rolled her over. The wound on her shoulder gaped open and red. Her dress clung to her body. Blood spread across the floor.

"She was supposed to help."

"I know-"

"Anna's still alive," Jessica interrupted. She slid off the bed, wiping her hands off on her skirt. She pushed back a curl of blonde hair as she looked back and forth between Dean and Sam. "We still need to watch her. The seizures could have done damage and she may have more."

"Thanks, Jess." Sam stepped forward. "Do we need to move her?"

"We need to send for a stretcher." Jess looked to Hannah. "Can you gather clothes for her?"  
Hannah nodded and turned toward the dresser. Two healers left the room, returning shortly with the stretcher between them. Sam lifted Anna from the bed and laid her on it carefully. The two healers carried her from the room, Hannah following after. Castiel stayed, still standing above Abaddon's body. Jessica squeezed Castiel's arm before she left for the infirmary. Sam joined Dean and Castiel.

"What happened?" Sam asked, his voice low. He knelt beside Abaddon's body, turning her head to the side to see the wound.

"I heard something crash. The door was locked-"

"She would never-"

"I know, Cas. I kicked it in and Abaddon was on top of her. We fought."

"What about my mother?"

"I don't know. I was struggling and Anna, she threw herself at us. I was able to-" Dean gestured to Abaddon's neck.

"What do we do with her?" Sam asked as he stood up.

"The hell if I know, Sam." 

In the end, they wrapped Abaddon's body in old sheets and put her in a cart hitched between Dean’s and Sam's horses. Castiel insisted on riding with them. He sat behind Dean on Clover, his hands twisted into Dean's cloak. They rode in silence, the creaking of the cart and the pounding of hoofs the only sound. Castiel shuddered against Dean's back, his breath hitching. Dean wrapped a hand around Castiel's wrist and held it. Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean's shoulder and stayed there.

At the Witches City, Dean and Sam rode straight to the Temple. Women and children watched them walk through, lining the street, unnaturally silent. At the Temple, they dismounted. Dean hauled Abaddon's body over his shoulder. When they entered the Temple grounds, Ruby intercepted them, arms out to halt their progress.

"You can't enter without their permission."

Sam stepped forward, hand raised to touch her. She reeled back. "Ruby, please. Dean."

Dean turned and let Sam peel back the sheets to reveal Abaddon's face. Ruby sucked in a sharp breath, her arms falling to her side. She turned without speaking and led them into the hall. They followed her. Linda and Rowena sat on the bench, both straight-backed, faces dark with anger. Linda stood.

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

Dean stepped forward and dropped Abaddon's body on the floor. He pulled back the sheet. Rowena rose.

"What did you do?" she hissed at him.

"She attacked Anna. I only defended her."

Both women stared at him.

" _You_ killed her?" Linda asked.

Dean nodded. He unsheathed his blade and held it up, the bone dull in the lamp light, Abaddon’s blood staining the teeth. Rowena and Linda looked at each other.

"That's your Gifting," Linda said. She held her hand out and Dean offered her the grip. Linda took it from him and held the blade up. Rowena touched a finger to it. Dean had cleaned it, but the blood had sunk into the bone, clung between the teeth.

"What happened to Anna?" Rowena asked.

Dean looked up from the blade to see her looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"She was fine at first. She went into convulsions."

Rowena knelt next to Abaddon's body. She pulled the sheet further back to reveal Abaddon's neck and her dress. "She bled."

"She was over me."

"Was she over Anna? Did she get blood on her?" Linda asked.

Dean glanced at Sam. "Yes. We were both covered with it."

Rowena stood and she and Linda turned their backs to them. Castiel moved forward, face dark, hands clenched into fists. Dean caught him and held him back. They watched the Witches argue, faces close together, hands moving. 

The Witches separated and turned to face them.

"We need to see Anna."

"How do I know you won't try to kill her like she did?" Castiel challenged as he pointed to Abaddon's body. "My mother has done nothing but be destroyed by coming here at your behest."

Linda moved forward to take Castiel's hand. He glared at her, jerking it from her grasp.

"We don't wish your mother harm, Castiel. We wish to help her."

Castiel shook his head. "Abaddon was supposed to help her."

"We want to make this right, Castiel."

"Our loyalty is not Abaddon," Rowena said. "Our loyalty is to Anna."

"Why?"

Sam stepped forward then, brow furrowed. "Castiel, I think we should let them."

" _Why?_ "

Sam glanced at the Witches and then pulled Castiel away. "They don't protect each other, Cas. They work alone."

Castiel stared at Sam, blue eyes searching. He turned to Dean, but Dean could only shrug. He had no answers. Castiel turned his back on them. He dug a hand into his hair, his shoulders stiff. After a moment, Castiel lowered his hand and turned to stare at Linda and Rowena.

"Fine."

He spun and left the hall, leaving Dean and Sam behind with the Witches.

 

* * *

 

Anna still had not woken by the time they arrived back at the Winchester-Campbell house. Castiel dismounted and headed for the infirmary without waiting for Dean or Sam or the Witches. Servants took the horses and the cart from them while they followed after him.

In the infirmary, Balthazar sat beside Anna's bed, Hannah on the other side, holding her hand. Castiel stood at the foot, eyes focused on Anna. She breathed slowly, her face pale, lips bloodless. 

Rowena entered the infirmary first and sat on the edge of the bed, pushing Hannah away despite her protests. She pressed two fingers to the soft flesh under Anna's chin. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them as she moved her fingers to Anna's chin. She tilted Anna's head to one side then to the other. With a hum, Rowena slid her fingers into Anna's mouth, opening it. She leaned down and inhaled deeply. When she leaned back, she nodded to Linda, who handed Rowena a small bag.

Balthazar gripped Linda's wrist. "What is that?"

"Herbs, mostly," Linda answered.

"I want to see," Hannah said.

Linda pulled her hand free and opened the bag. Hannah glanced at Sam. Sam accepted the bag and named the herbs.

"They're all used for healing," he explained.

Hannah looked to Balthazar who studied Linda's face. He finally jerked his head in agreement. Linda tied the bag closed again and passed it to Rowena. Rowena pushed it into Anna's mouth and closed her jaw around it. She stood and Linda circled around the bed to the other side. She and Rowena held hands over Anna's body and started chanting. Sam drew Hannah away to stand with them at the foot of the bed; Balthazar balked and kept his place.

On the bed, Anna's head rocked back, her neck arched. She sucked in a hard breath through her nose and then her body seized.

"Stop!" Hannah screamed, lunging forward. "You're hurting her."

The Witches ignored Hannah. Balthazar grabbed Anna to hold her down. He tried to pry her mouth open, but her jaw clenched tightly.

"Stop it!" Castiel shouted.

Linda and Rowena stopped chanting and released their hands. Anna's body shuddered until they stepped back and then she went still. Her body sank into the mattress, her head falling to the side. Balthazar knelt next to her, his hand cupping her face.

"She's not breathing."

Rowena ignored him, turning to Sam. "Salt and burn her."

"What? No!" Castiel stepped between them. "You can't!"

Sam looked to Dean who nodded. They knew what this meant; they remembered the stories their mother had told them. Sam stepped around Castiel and hefted Anna's body into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Castiel turned to Dean and shoved him.

"What are you doing? They killed her and now you'll help them burn her?" He shoved Dean again, but Dean caught his wrists and held them.

"Cas. Cas, I promise-"

"Don't."

He jerked his hands free and followed after Sam with Hannah. Balthazar stood toe-to-toe with Dean.

"I will make you regret this. Your family has destroyed mine and I will destroy yours."

"It's not what you think."

Balthazar shook his head and turned away.

 

* * *

 

       
 _Portraits of Dean and Sam Winchester-Campbell by Aceriee_

 

* * *

 

In the yard, servants built a pyre while Sam held Anna. Dean salted it when it was ready and Sam laid her down. A servant lit the torch and tossed it at her feet. Her dress caught fire first and then the kindling. The fire spread under her body and then surged up to engulf her. Castiel hugged Hannah, her face pressed to his shoulder. He stared into the fire, his face stone, a look Dean had not seen since he arrived. Balthazar didn't watch; he only stared at Dean, face twisted with anger and derision.

As quickly as the fire flared up, it burned down. Anna lay on the pyre, her night gown untouched, her skin unburned.

Rowen stepped forward and touched her hand to Anna's chest, chanting low under her breath. Anna sucked in a sharp breath, her back arching, her eyes flying open. She gasped and choked, her breath caught in her throat. Castiel's eyes went wide. Hannah's and Balthazar's heads jerked up to watch as their mother rolled over, coughing into the wood of the pyre below her. When her gasping subsided, Linda helped her to her feet. Anna stared at her, eyes wide, lips parted.

"Welcome, sister," Rowena greeted, the corner of her mouth curled up into a sly smile.

 

* * *

 

Dean stood next to Sam and watched as Anna hugged Balthazar, her arms around his waist. He tucked his face into her neck and nodded as she whispered to him. Dean glanced over to find Sam's eyebrows raised in interest.

"Thought he was such a dick," Sam muttered when he caught Dean's look.

Dean shrugged.

Anna patted Balthazar on the back and he stepped away, letting Hannah in to curl her arms around her mother. Anna squeezed and rocked her. Dean looked past them to study Castiel where he stood, face impassive, arms folded over his chest. Dean could see now, now that he knew Castiel, had come to know him, the way that his lips trembled and the dampness in his eyes that would never fall. Castiel was emotive in small measures, in the little things that people overlooked.

Hannah moved away and Anna turned to Castiel. He stepped forward into the curve of her arms and let her hold him. Dean could see way the grief eased, his eyes falling shut, tension leaving his shoulders and soothing the lines around his mouth. He tipped his head against Anna's and she passed a hand through his hair.

He pulled away, but did not step back. Anna spoke to him, her hand rising to cup his cheek. He frowned at her, listening intently. His eyes rose to meet Dean's briefly before he looked back at Anna. He shook his head, and Anna leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

She came to Dean next, wrapping her arms around him.

"You take care of him," Anna said and Dean pulled away to stare at her. She smiled, a knowing smile, the kind of smile his mother had given him when she'd caught him as a child doing something he shouldn't have been just before she put her finger to her lips with a soft _shhh_ and a wink.

Rowena made herself known then, curling her arm around Anna's and pulling her away.

"Come along, dear," she said. "We have much to discuss."

She led Anna from the room, but Linda remained behind. John came forward then.

"What about the alliance?" he asked. "You said it was important."

"It is. Had we known who she was, things might have been different."

"I don't understand though," Sam said. "I thought in order for a new Witch to be born, she had to kill the previous one."

"Anna is not one of us. She was only half in this world, though it was a powerful half, with the precognition and her flower."

"She had a flower?" John asked.

Linda looked at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

Dean shrugged. "I, uh, guessed." He flinched under Linda's glare. "She told me she'd dreamt of Mom," he said. "She dreamed of Celandines growing under her feet and telling my mom she'd have joy."

LInda's expression turned thoughtful. She tipped her head as she studied Dean. "It's a shame," she said slowly, "that another of her line doesn't have a flower."

Dean's eyes turned to Castiel before he could stop them. Linda followed his gaze. Castiel stared back at them, his attention shifting from Dean to Linda and then back again. He cocked his head to the side.

"The boy has a flower?" Linda asked as she turned to Dean.

"Yeah. Anna gave it to him when he was born. Said she dreamed it."

"What is it?"

"Almond blossom."

"Hope." Linda hummed. A smile curled the corner of her mouth. "Hope is a good sign for the future, for what we would like from the future." She reached forward and patted Dean's arm. "He only need marry one of us to make the alliance."

Dean opened his mouth to ask, but Linda turned away to join her sisters, hooking an arm through Anna's as Rowena had done. The Winchester-Campbells and the Elliffs stood in the courtyard, watching as they were left behind.

Castiel moved to stand by Dean, and Dean glanced over his shoulder at him.

"They said you gotta marry," Dean told him, turning to see him better.

Castiel nodded. "I'm aware. Anna said traditionally the family of the Witch rules. Abaddon's family, such as it is, has fallen out of favor. We cannot rule unless we marry one of your people."

"You're willing to do that?"

"I am considering it," Castiel answered, his eyes sharp on Dean's face.

Dean nodded and turned away.

 

* * *

 

Castiel found Dean in the garden as he expected. Dean sat in front of the Gladiolus, legs folded under him, hands braced on his knees. Castiel crossed the grass softly and sat next to him. Dean sat silently, watching the flowers drift back and forth in the gentle breeze.

"I have been wondering," Castiel started, watching as Dean turned his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "Where does your surname come from?"

Dean looked at him fully, frowning. "What?"

"Winchester-Campbell. It's quite long compared to ours."

"Uh... Winchester is my father's family. Campbell is my mother's family."

"So when you marry...?"

"We join names."

Castiel hummed. "The husband's is first?"

Dean stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back onto a hand. He looked up at the sky. "Not necessarily. Wouldn’t work with two husbands. Or none. You usually decide together."

"What name would you take if you married?"

Dean looked at him. "What?"

"Would you take both names?"

"I could, or I could choose whose name I wanted to take."

Castiel waited.

"I would take my mom's name," Dean admitted with a glance at the Gladiolus.

Castiel nodded. He studied Dean's face. Dean stared at him, frowning slightly.

"What?" he asked.

Castiel smiled. He reached out to take Dean's hand. "I think I like Campbell-Elliff."

Dean blinked at him, face going slack.

"Would you prefer Elliff-Campbell?"

"No- I- What?"

Castiel shifted closer to Dean, pulling Dean's hand into his lap. "I have to marry one of your people, Dean."

"Okay..."

Castiel smiled wider. He leaned forward, raising a hand to cup Dean's cheek, and pressed his mouth to Dean's. Dean pulled back, eyes wide. He stared at Castiel, eyes dancing between his, until Castiel saw understanding widen them, the grass green turning dark and hungry. Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's neck and pulled him, kissing him hungrily, lips parting to let Castiel in. Castiel sighed against his mouth and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist.

"I- I don't really understand what's happening," Dean admitted when they parted. Castiel laughed, pressing his face against Dean's shoulder.

"I have to marry one of your people, Dean, and you-" Castiel closed his eyes and sighed. He opened them to look at Dean. "You are so beautiful, Dean. I want to marry you."

"Okay," Dean said. He looked at the Gladiolus. "Okay," he repeated. "I think I actually like Elliff-Campbell." He turned back to Castiel, and Castiel smiled.

"We can do that."

"Hope, huh?" Dean asked. He climbed to his feet and held out his hand to help Castiel up. He slid his fingers between Castiel’s and walked around the flowers. Dean's red chrysanthemums hung low to the ground, spread wide. Dean pointed.

"We could plant an almond tree in the center."

"Would that be okay?" Castiel asked.

Dean considered and then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. It could go in the center."

"What about-" Castiel hesitated. Dean elbowed him in the side and Castiel leaned against him. "What about our children?"

Dean shook his hand free and wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulder. "We'll see. Sam may not live here forever. We'd move his flower then and that would give us room." Dean paused. "There's a memorial garden. I don't think you've seen it yet. The Gladiolus could move there."

"No," Castiel said. "No, she stays here. With you."

Dean pressed his forehead to Castiel's. He nodded. "We'll have room, Cas. I promise."

"I believe you," Castiel said, and he tilted his head up for a kiss.

 

* * *

 

  
_King of Hearts by Aceriee_


	6. Epilogue

Castiel let go of Balthazar, freeing him from his hug. Balthazar slapped Castiel on the shoulder, smirking in amusement. He narrowed his eyes at Dean, but kept his goodbyes to a simple nod. Dean curled an arm around Castiel's shoulder. Castiel smiled up at him, wrapping an arm around Dean's waist. His brother would be happy here, even if Balthazar felt that he was marrying below his worth.

Hannah stood off to the side but stepped forward to also hug Balthazar goodbye.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" he asked. “I’m sure I could find a suitably boring place for you back home.”

Hannah smiled at him, patting his cheek. "Yes. I like it here. I would also like to be close to Mother."

"Well, if you must," Balthazar allowed. Hannah's smile widened as she stepped back.

Returning home was a relief. Balthazar relaxed into his life, relieved to have his hands in the business again, enjoying the spread of the city below him- theirs vertical where Dean's, and now Castiel's, spread across the ground, sprawling homes and roads. Balthazar breathed easier even if he missed his family.

It was no real surprise when, several months later, Hannah sent him a letter speaking of a young man. Nor, a few months that, the receipt of an invitation to her wedding as Balthazar now knew the young man's full family history.

Balthazar dutifully made the trip again. He was surprised to find his mother waiting, a robe of flowers wrapped around her shoulders, smiling and happy, her face flushed with life. She accepted his arm, but he could feel the energy in her. She smelled of damp earth as they walked together.

In the wedding, Hannah's husband presented her with a flower- a small bouquet of yellow primrose tied together with white ribbon that he told her represented love and light and everything she was to him. Hannah accepted it with shaking hands and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, eyes shining with tears.

Dean and Castiel stood beside her. In the field behind them, the people of the city celebrated with them. Later, walking with Hannah and her husband, Castiel and Dean passed through the crowd, stopping to talk with anyone who held out a hand in welcome. Children clung to Castiel's clothes and he lifted a blonde haired child into his arms. She wrapped skinny arms around his neck, cheek pressed to his, and let him carry her through the crowds.

Anna touched a hand to Balthazar's back.

"He makes an excellent ruler," she commented.

Balthazar glanced at her. "He seems happy."

"He is. They are good for each other. Dean has drawn Castiel from his shell. Castiel has tempered Dean’s impulses."

Balthazar watched them. Castiel set the girl down and she ran between legs to find her mother. Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean's cheek and let himself be held, eyes closing, peace settling into his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Flowers:
> 
>   * Gladiolus: strength of character (Mary)
>   * Wormwood: bitter sorrow (John, after Mary’s death)
>   * Red Chrysanthemum: I love (Dean)
>   * White Chrysanthemum: loyalty (Sam)
>   * Almond Blossoms: hope (Castiel)
>   * Celandine: joys to come (Anna)
>   * White Clover: I Promise (Dean’s horse)
>   * Primrose: Eternal Love (Hannah)
> 



End file.
